


East or West

by perryvic, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Ancient Technology, Disability, F/M, M/M, PTSD, Partner Betrayal, Prisoner of War, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Science Fiction, Sensory Deprivation, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Violence, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 22:23:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 178,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perryvic/pseuds/perryvic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Left or right, east or west. He was remembering the direction of the stars. Remembering how he had figured the direction to Kandahar and Kabul from the sky. He knew how to navigate using the sky. The ground, he found a little more tricky.</p><p>--</p><p>
  <i>An Alternate Universe -- if John Sheppard hadn't been part of the original expedition, would the wraith still be Atlantis' greatest threat?</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Gate travel was the same every time, the temporary loss of sensation, a numbness that lingered before the gate spilled you out in a manner befitting your previous velocity. Walking through the gate was best. A foot forwards into the gate meant a foot coming out on the other side.

But if you were running, if you jumped through, you had that split second of disorientation where you forgot exactly why you were face down in the dirt with hands clutching your arms, hauling you up. Rodney had never gotten used to that, but usually it had been falling through or sliding into the safety of the city and not the other way around. The city was behind them, the city and the storm of the century, and in front of him was crisp fall air and trees, and wide, wide blue sky.

Too much sky, all the wrong colors, and shouting around him, so harsh and abrupt he couldn’t clutch at the meaning of the words. He was dragged forwards, and he could hear the Genii commander shouting at them to move move move, away from the gate, away from the men who'd been behind them, carrying everything they could grab of the supplies they’d stolen, the reason why the Atlantis was lost now. It would have worked, Rodney _knew_ it should have worked, they should be sitting pretty and in a few hours, everyone on Manara would be coming home.

But that wasn't what was happening.

Instead, because they had stopped _him_ from finishing with the grounding stations, the lightning had breached the control room. The squad of Genii soldiers guarding the gate from incoming wormhole traffic, or Bates’ impersonation of Rambo before he had been caught, had died in one unbelievable electric ozone arc, and it looked like half the consoles in the control room blew up and showered sparks even as he ducked and Elizabeth and Bates with him.

It had triggered some sort of self-destruct. He'd stood and looked at the readings, ignoring the stench of charred flesh and then ran to hotwire the dialing console as their only way out before the city went up.

There was no time to argue about what address was dialed when the Genii were holding the guns and there were literally seconds to get through the gate. They were running and piling through to safety even as Atlantis had to be entering her death throes.

He hadn't wanted to die, even though there had been a feeling of just a few more minutes, just one more, one more thing to try at this console and it could be fixed. Except that one of Kolya's men grabbed him by the arm and pulled at him, and if it hadn't been his bad arm, the one they'd fucking cut _open_ on him, he would have been fine. He would have stayed, but the pain was crippling, and then Kolya had ordered the fall back, and, and...

It was less like a kidnapping than it was like an escape, except when Rodney got his feet under him again, that Genii was still holding onto his arm. And Kolya had Elizabeth clutched tight, an arm over her chest, her back pressed obscenely close to his front. He'd seen Bates do that to Teyla in the gym, try it, and she always flipped him over her shoulders. Elizabeth wasn’t Teyla.

"Did you get the C4?" Kolya twisted and glanced over. "Idos... how many of your men did you lose?"

They'd been lucky those explosives hadn't gone up with the gateroom. Arcing lightning had been too close to all of them, and... Bates. Bates. Rodney didn't like the man, but he was good at what he did, so he started to look for him, eyes scanning the area, the men standing around the now closed gate. 

"We have the C4 and the medicines." There was a lean-looking blond man stepping forwards, but looking over his shoulder. So much was back there in the city. "I lost twenty."

Kolya's expression was grim even as Elizabeth obviously tried to pull herself away. She might as well have been pulling against an arm of stone for all the impact she made. "Understood. That will be taken into consideration in the allocating of reparation. We will return to Vartesk, and report to Chief Cowen. It is a steep price, but perhaps we have some degree of compensation here. Place them under guard."

The hand on his arm tightened, and Rodney knew it had to be shock that was muting his senses, stunning his motions, because they'd just lost the city, but -- _compensation_? "No, no, no, let me _go_!"

"Dr. McKay, it's not like you have a lot of choice in the matter," Kolya said in that infuriatingly calm tone that suggested he was being reasonable. "Sora, take custody of Dr. Weir for me. We will meet for the Allocation after I've debriefed to Chief Cowen. Considering our losses I don't think he will argue over much."

"Commander Kolya..." Elizabeth tried her best reasoning tone. "Your best option will be to release us all immediately. You have already cost us Atl-"

The Commander looked at Sora, who very casually struck her across the face to shock her into silence. So. Definitely prisoners then.

"I don't particularly want any of you dead. It would be hard for me to exact service from you if that were the case, but if you are more bother to the Genii alive than dead, Chief Cowen not hesitate to have you killed. Do you understand me?"

A braver man would have spit at him, or struggled to get free. Rodney knew he wasn't that brave a man. His _arm_ was bleeding, and there was still, there was still the whole rest of the expedition on Manara, safe and capable of rescuing them. There was no way that they'd end up like that for more than a couple of weeks, and, and...

"Fine." He swallowed, and didn't look at the Genii holding him or look for Bates. Elizabeth had spent as much of the past few hours wet and miserable as he had, and he looked towards her for any cues at all to something he was maybe missing. A way of escape, how he should try and behave, but for once, despite her calm expression, he got nothing back from her.

Kolya gestured and that rough grip steered him away to start the trek away from the Stargate. All they needed to do was to wait it out, to wait for Carson and Lorne to come after them, or get back to the Stargate and dial Manara and their alpha site. 

In the meantime, they just had to survive this. If only Bates hadn't been caught playing hero. He hadn't even known the man was still in the city after Carson had evacuated the last of the Athosians with Teyla and Major Lorne. 

Bates shouldn't have been there, not that way. It was only Rodney and Elizabeth that needed to stay behind, and if one of the military insisted, Rodney personally would have preferred Lorne's presence. He was the _commander_ , and he actually knew what he was doing in strange situations that weren't security-related. 

Like what to do when you were taken hostage. Rodney was sure that he wasn't supposed to just walk, one foot in front of the other, tripping through high grass while that rough hand pulled him along. "Ow, ow, that's my hurt arm, you can, you can ease up, do I look like I'm capable of making a run for it?"

Oh great. They were going for manly stoicism and military silence. What the hell was wrong with these Genii? They probably wanted him for his skills. He could understand that. Might even be a little gratified by the fact that he was probably what they wanted, and perhaps Elizabeth and Bates were second string, but he was tired and cold, wet and hungry. Joking all aside he wasn't going to be of much help if he passed out from lack of food, or blood loss.

It reminded him why, in the end of things, he'd always hated the way the American military did things. It was that, that Marine-like, special ops set to everyone’s jaw, the determination to deny that they were human and that everyone else around them was human, too. Because humans needed food and humans couldn't walk forever, marching through the unreliably scenic fields. 

Apparently they weren't going to a village first.

Villages were fake anyway. And he knew now that the Genii were one of the more advanced Pegasus races, which was pretty sad. Elizabeth had gone on about the accomplishment of even getting to what he liked to think of as Cold-War sort of levels of weaponry and paranoia under the circumstances but frankly, after he and Lorne had managed their narrow escape, he really didn't care.

And if they had that level of technology, then they really ought to have vehicles. There were no Wraith here to watch them toiling over the rough track. But no. No, they walked, like seemed to be the norm for everyone in Pegasus. Walk from one place to another to another, when faster modes of transportation would make escapes easier, certainly. Logic would’ve told him at least that making an escape vehicle should’ve been a priority.

It was just one foot in front of the other, carrying him forwards, listening to Elizabeth's voice behind him, pitching up and down, and Rodney couldn't listen. It had been her who'd urged him to stall, saying they could buy Bates time, which was bullshit, because there needed to be something for him to _do_ with that time, and all it had cost them was everything.

He should've been able to stop the cascade to self-destruct. He should've... if he'd had a few moments more...

He barely noticed when they entered a cave -- a little bit more impressive than a hatch under a barn and at the back suddenly he could've been in a subway back on earth. Rail transport underground. Huh.

It made sense. Cowen had mentioned their _Cities_ that first time, which implied more than one city. That meant there were probably more than a few humans who lived on the surface as decoys, as farmers, to feed the kind of people who could build a crude sort of subway system. It was probably fuelled by nuclear power, with poor shielding, which meant that he could practically feel his testicles mutating in his scrotum. 

Rodney hadn't planned on having children, anyway. Jeannie had that one covered.

They kept him and Bates, and Elizabeth back, loading the crates on first. Their C4, some of their weaponry which they didn't understand and Carson had to be realizing there was something wrong soon. When they didn't get the call through. When there was no answer to the gate address. He had to. Carson wouldn't give up on him. Not after everything.

They were loaded on then, the three of them locked into some sort of empty carriage, left alone for the first time.

"Rodney? How's your arm?" Elizabeth murmured. "Is it still bleeding?"

"Yes." His shirt sleeve was soaked with blood, thinned out from the water, but he was starting to dry out, except for his feet and any nooks and crannies. If he was on Atlantis, Rodney would have stripped off and made friends with his shower head for at least half an hour. "Which seems to have been what they wanted it so do, so..."

"Here, I'll take a look," Bates said. "I've got a field dressing in my uniform that they haven't taken yet." He sounded not overly happy with being a captive as if it was a personal affront that he was in the same situation as the civilians.

"I was just going to suggest that," Elizabeth agreed. "Let’s get a look at it. I'm hoping that they will take you to a medical facility."

"Yes, and then they'll give us lollypops and offer us back to Carson and Lorne in exchange for more C4." Which they probably didn't have with them _anyway_ , even if that scenario had been viable. Rodney shrugged out of his jacket, and grimaced when he had to stop, pulling half-dried bloody fabric away from where the inside of his arm had slowly been sliced.

"We're going to have to assume they don't want to trade," Bates said. "Maybe they will for me, but I think I managed to get on their wrong side by killing some of their men. Dr. McKay is too valuable. They might ransom you Dr. Weir."

"Well they certainly understand the concept of taking hostages," Elizabeth said managing to sound calm and collected. "Although it is standard procedure to not bargain."

"Great, then our standard procedure and them talking about us serving as compensation for them will work hand in hand." Rodney snapped a little, trying to not stare at her while he held his arm out for Bates. He wasn't going to look. They'd made him look when they'd _done_ it and he'd almost thrown up onto the wound then.

Bates didn't say anything, but pulled out from various pockets on his uniform some powder that he shook over the wound and an alcohol swab that he wiped around the wound with.

"You should have stitches." Elizabeth was looking at him with what he liked to think was concern in her eyes.

If she was looking at him for reassurance, it wasn't going to happen. He wasn't meant to be in situations like that. He was supposed to be in a lab, working -- he was supposed to do everything right that Sam Carter had done wrong, and that included his take on fieldwork. He wasn't supposed to be in danger like that. "I'm sure they were concerned about my blood loss when they were -- oh, that's right. Cutting me up in the first place." 

"They wanted you to know they were serious," Bates replied as he wiped the blood off. "That they would carry through on threats."

He pulled out the emergency dressing and shook it out. 

"The question is, is what they mean by service," Elizabeth added. "If they need us, we can negotiate."

"How?" That did get him to look at her, really look at her. Elizabeth's hair was finally drying, wild crispy-looking twisted strands framing her face, and she looked exhausted, more exhausted than she usually looked.

"We don't have to cooperate," Elizabeth said. "That is a negotiating point . And Dr. Beckett and Major Lorne will be looking for us. I'm pretty sure they'll try and get here."

"Major Lorne will," Bates agreed.

Bates pressed the ragged edges of skin together, and Rodney tried to not jerk his arm away because fuck that hurt. "I tried not cooperating and they _cut_ me. You think that's going to work?"

"If nothing else it can get us better conditions," Elizabeth said patiently. "I'm guessing they are going to want me to do translating of ancient artifacts for them. Rodney, you've got the gene, they don't know about that, but it can be a bargaining point. "

Bates ignored his flinch and pulled the dressing tight. "Yeah, be grateful you have the most skills."

"Because clearly I want to be the most... revered indentured servant or whatever it is." Rodney hunched his shoulders, and he looked ahead, trying to make out how much further they might have to go. It seemed unlikely that the walls were going to collapse. The basic architecture was very sturdy.

"It's better than being dispensable," Elizabeth replied and brushed back her wet hair. "We need to think about... some sort of escape as well. And a means of locating where we are in relation to the Stargate."

"Before they get smart and separate us?" Rodney kept his voice low when he said that, but it was only a matter to time.

"Yes, before then," Elizabeth said patiently in a tone he recognized as humoring him. "Any ideas?"

“No. No, I don’t have a damn idea. I can’t see the control system from here, and whatever is powering this is _ahead_ of us, which is, again, out of sight.” Bates was tying off the field dressing, and Rodney could handle that. The steady pressure was almost a comfort, compared to the feeling of him pressing the edges of the wound together.

"If I see a gap, I'm going for it," Bates replied. "Just be ready."

Elizabeth nodded and sat back, shivering slightly.

“Ready.” Rodney carefully folded his arms over his chest, half-cradling it to his chest. They were doomed. They were just fucking doomed, and they were going to be living in the land of radiation poisoning for the rest of their lives, however short they were.

A silence descend as the train rattled on. They'd lost Atlantis. They'd brought destruction to it and it had been his dream. His holy grail. He'd been happy there. With Carson, despite the pressure, stress and Kavanagh. He'd never had that before, and now it was too much.

They jolted to a halt abruptly, evidently at their destination.

Rodney leaned forwards a little, anxiously waiting for them to unlock the cage that kept them in place. Except that they didn't. Except that they stopped, and started to unload the C4 and medical supplies from the front of the section.

It seemed they really weren't a priority at the moment. Only when everything else had been taken away, did someone come to usher them out at the point of a gun. 

"Move," the Genii soldier said curtly.

It was a shame that Bates had gone in first, because that meant Elizabeth was out first, and then Rodney, then Bates would step out last. Up ahead, he could hear voices, sounds – sounds of life, sounds of a city in motion. Atlantis, even with its few hundred inhabitants, sounded like that every day, thick with activity.

They didn't have much opportunity to make a break for it. Even Bates seemed to recognize that fact. They were herded efficiently up to a room and shown inside. It was pretty blank, and there was a sign on the wall in the common tongue that read “Allocation.” He guessed this had been what they were referring to earlier.

They got rather unceremonious manacled to a free standing bar, before they were left there alone again.

Rodney closed his eyes, and leaned back against the manacles. His arm was throbbing, his legs ached from too much wet and too much standing and too much of trying to stay coherent for too long without resting. He’d been at those calibrations for hours before things had even gone to hell.

Allocation had to mean something other than the dictionary definition of parting out, dividing up, didn’t it?

He didn't want to think about what that meant if it meant a physical, literal way of doing things. Bates was fruitlessly examining the manacles as if that would help. Maybe he thought he could pick the locks with his teeth or something.

Elizabeth just contrived to look somehow disheveled and poised at the same time.

She was always… striking, really. She probably didn’t realize that she maintained a low level of sexual tension with everything that had a penis, but it was that sort of aloofness that did it. In school, everyone wanted to try to have sex with the girl like that, and she said no.

And Rodney really hoped the Genii didn’t think along the same lines as he did. That she didn’t end up that way, because she was really intelligent, fluent in ancient, and she could bargain and barter and…

He was so tired. At worst he'd imagined being with Carson at the alpha site on Manara and listening to him talking softly into his ear. Like he had after that first time when he had come to apologize after the incident with the personal shield and they'd somehow ended up apologizing a little more thoroughly. He missed that, he missed Atlantis with her glowing lights and endless mysteries. He missed the fact they were never getting back to Earth because the Atlantis gate had the special key crystal.

And now it was gone. And they were all going to die out in Pegasus, or they were going to go native, which in Pegasus was shorthand for 'crazy', and Rodney preferred dead to insane. 

"Do you think they have us standing up as some kind of torture?" he finally asked.

"I'm hoping it means we're not going to be here too long," Elizabeth said glancing over at Bates. "This is a commonly used room. Must be a part of their society."

He tried to remember if Elizabeth had a doctorate of anthropology somewhere. She probably kept it under that hideous Athosian pot on her desk. Had kept it.

"Looks like the equivalent of a courtroom or holding cell," Bates muttered.

"That might well be the case," Elizabeth said looking around. "Certainly, our position is one of a lack of control and the set up seems to make that deliberate."

"It's probably something they do all the time. I mean, there's a _sign_." In the common tongue, not one of the more complicated ones that meant that Teyla had to translate the written language for them. "You don't bother to make a sign unless it's used a lot."

"Yes." Elizabeth nodded. "Allocation of people perhaps or resources. Kolya talked of repayment. Perhaps this is where the terms are ... 'allocated'? Perhaps it is another word for judgment?"

Because they'd clearly committed a huge crime against the Genii by trying to protect their city. "We didn't ask for them to pick the worst time possible to try to invade us. It's not _our_ fault the gate room shielding failed."

"No, but winners get to rewrite the rules," Bates said cynically. "Fortunes of war."

There was a sound as the door opened again and a group of Genii entered. Including Kolya, Idos, Sora and Chief Cowen - as well as a few who they didn't recognize who appeared to be carrying papers. Chief Cowen sat in the central chair as the others arrayed themselves around expectantly.

"We'll make this Allocation brief and to the point. Eligible are Commander Acastus Kolya and two of his subordinates to be designated. Commander, name those who have earned Allocation."

"Commander Sora, and Commander Idos. I would like to make note for the record that Ladon Radeem comported himself well in this mission, but has not lost a life due to 'Lantean actions." It was curt, short, and Rodney had no idea what to make of it. Eligible? Eligible to... benefit from the allocation?

Chief Cowen looked at them all and then at Kolya. "As the leader of this strike force, you have the right to select your Allocation first. I will however state that I will be invoking the clause of service owed to the Genii as well due to the nature of these captives by conquest. Commander Kolya, select your Allocated."

Kolya looked over the three of them diffidently before his dark eyes locked onto Rodney and his mouth twisted just a little at the side. "Dr. McKay."

He could feel his stomach trying to crawl up his throat at the same time as his knees started to go. He wasn't going to fall apart, no, he was going to stand tall and be defiant and fuck, fuck, they were splitting them up, giving them away like dogs at a shelter. 

"So noted. Who takes second allocation?" Cowen asked as if he had said the words a hundred times before.

"Commander Idos." Kolya replied and Idos stood forwards.

"Very well. Choose your Allocated."

"I choose the one called Bates."

He could see that Sora at least was surprised and a little disappointed.

"So noted. Commander Sora, do you wish to take the remaining captive or designate her to the Genii state?"

"I will take her." She said it almost defiantly, and looked over at Idos before she fell back into her stern posture. She'd wanted Teyla dead, he remembered, but she'd also pointed out that they were just trying to defend their home when Bates had pulled his stunt. Maybe she'd be the weak link. Maybe Elizabeth could achieve a lot through her.

"So noted. They are allocated to your care and custody. In accordance with the state clause, you may not kill them with impunity or permanently disable them in such a way that will impair their ability to fulfill their service. You will be responsible for their care, health and comfort. Allocated duties will cover up to the personal level at your discretion." Chief Cowen rattled the phrases off so swiftly, they had to be well used. "The state reserves the right to utilize them under the laws of Allocation. Your marks of conquest will be updated. Their allocation will be reviewed every twelve months with a view to rehabilitation to citizenship. This Allocation is completed. Please collect your keys from the clerk and your Allocated."

The clerk had to be the dour looking older soldier who had paperwork and keys that he was removing from his belt loop. Rodney bit the inside of his mouth, trying to just breathe and not think about what the words meant, or how Bates was suddenly pulling at his cuffs and Idos stepped up to him with a fist at the ready. Kolya. He was being entrusted to Kolya's care, and his health was that man's responsibility?

"Oh, god, I'm going to die."

Kolya approached him, his voice different now. "I do hope not Dr. McKay. That would be breaching the state service clause after all. You will cooperate however or..."

He was interrupted by a rather predictable struggle between Bates and Idos. He had no idea what Bates was thinking because there was no gap, not even a vague hint of one. The scuffle ended up with Idos using a nasty little device that looked all the world like some hand held taser which effectively had the marine down and out.

"...or something like that will happen."

Rodney still pulled at the manacles with his good arm, just faintly, just straining. No, there was no lee-way at all, and Kolya was too close, standing right in front of him. "I'm not brave enough to try something that stupid."

"Good. I take good care of my Allocated in the time that they are in my service. I'm sure there must be an equivalent concept in your culture." His tone implied that all civilized cultures obviously functioned this way. He unlocked his hands. "We will see about getting you an identity band tomorrow. Initially, let’s see about getting you cleaned up and taken home."

Identity band. Rodney was sure that it would go around his neck, and all of his immunization tags would dangle at the front so everyone would know that if and when he bit, they wouldn't develop creeping insanity and a fear of water. "We don't have a cultural equivalent. Unless you count marriage."

Kolya surprised him by actually laughing at that. "It is not uncommon for a term of allocated service to lead to marriage. But that is the way of things.” He steered him carefully away from the others, firm and focused. "How is it that your military serve? Where is the incentive to climb rank or distinguish themselves if not for the chance of allocation of property or people? Or the incentive not to be defeated or caught if you know that is what will happen to you?"

They were heading out of the allocation room, and all Rodney could do was rub at his wrists, trying to warm up again. Bates, hell, Lorne would have been out of it already. Making a run for it, but Kolya was right beside him and he had to have at least one of those taser devices. "Ego, pride, patriotism, and higher ranks make better money. When countries from, from where we come from fight, people die. Not dying seems to be a good incentive for us."

Kolya nodded and Rodney wasn't at all sure about this genial sort of demeanor he was projecting. "Killing is a last resort. With populations so low it is better to take prisoners... This way." They were in the corridor, heading further down into the mountain or wherever. "Allocation is simple and effective. Through wrongdoing or through conquest, a person or property can be allocated to someone deserving. The Allocation is time-limited usually and there are conditions and levels of interaction. As a non-genii, your allocation criteria is nearly full, meaning I could theoretically do whatever I wished with you."

"If that's a threat, having my arm cut open already drove the point home." Rodney looked sideways at him, and kept as much distance between them as he dared to.

"Merely a statement of fact Dr. McKay," Kolya replied with infuriating calm. "The Genii state will be paying me for your work, and I in turn will act as a protector and provider. Is that clear? The raid on Atlantis was not personal. I was doing what I had to do in a situation I was ordered to be in against my better judgment."

And Kolya said it _so_ genuinely, like he really expected for Rodney to believe him. "Crystal clear."

"Good. I don't want to have to discipline you McKay, as Idos will undoubtedly be doing with the one you called Bates. But that's the sort of thing he likes so..." Kolya shrugged a little. "But I warn you, I will do so if I believe you will be in danger of further sanctions from the state, or the state might take it out of my hands and deal with you directly. And you really don't want that. They have means of interrogation and torture you would not want to become acquainted with."

And Rodney wasn't ever interested in physical discomfort. Ever, not even if it was for a noble, distant goal, if there was a way to _avoid_ it. "Fine, I get it. You're the lesser of two evils." And he'd just cost them the City of the Ancients.

"Yes I am," Kolya replied firmly. "Though I understand your reluctance to believe me. This is the way it is going to work Dr. McKay so there is no point resisting."

They were obviously heading into some medical zone as there were people wearing things that looked suspiciously like surgical scrubs walking around.

It couldn't be any kind of clean-room, which was the other first association Rodney's brain leapt to, because the Genii didn't grasp the conception of radiation poisoning. Rodney couldn't hold much hope that they'd understand stitches or _real_ sterilization. "I'm not resisting. I'm cold, I'm hungry, and you had my _arm_ cut open, the rest of my mission is god knows where, and we just lost our base and our only way to get home."

"All the more reason for you to focus on making the best of your current situation," Kolya replied evidently trying to sound completely fair and reasonable. "You will have your arm tended to here, then we will return to my quarters, and you will bathe and change and food will be brought. I am sorry about the City of the Ancients, I would've taken it for the Genii if I could but... such things were not to be."

Such things _might_ have been if he'd let Rodney work without playing the asinine control freak of a soldier, or if he hadn't shown up at _all_. He'd be safe there if Kolya hadn't... "How long is this... servitude?"

"Well that depends upon your service," Kolya replied calmly. "If you perform significant services to the state, then your time will be reduced commensurately. Your first review is in a year so that will be your minimum time. Recalcitrant behavior adds to your time."

"Huh." Just a year. Just a year, and he was supposed to think he could just... walk away? That he could, that they'd let him just leave and look for the rest of the mission after that? If, if they didn't get to him before then, and that was a hope he wasn't going to let go of. As soon as they realized what had happened, there was every chance that Lorne would lead the mission to get them. Without a base, Rodney was going to be invaluable to trying to keep them functioning, and without him they had... Jesus. They had Kavanagh. He wasn't even an _engineer_.

"Perhaps we could make an alliance with your people now," Kolya replied. "If they survive long enough for us to make contact and negotiate. You were sheltered on the City of the Ancients from the reality of life here. Out in the galaxy, we have to survive. The Wraith hit wherever they will.

"Look, _your_ people haven't even grasped the concept of radiation poisoning or how to make basic explosives. So just take your 'strength' talk and shove it," Rodney finally snapped. There was a man in scrubs coming up towards them, and he stopped when he heard the tone of Rodney's voice.

"Dr. McKay, you will behave with courtesy or you will not have your arm treated," Kolya said in a hard voice. "Perhaps that can be part of your contribution. Doctor, my newly allocated here is in need of your services. Treat his wound."

Rodney clenched his teeth together, watching how the man reacted almost right away, glancing at Kolya before reaching out to take Rodney by the shoulder off to one side. There were no separate rooms, but there were heavy curtains breaking up sections. It was probably more efficient to heat.

He started to regret any of the times he'd called Carson a voodoo witchdoctor because in comparison he was much more advanced and at least seem to have vague idea about medicine. They probably didn't know about allergies, or reactions or hypoglycemia or even that hypertension was dangerous. Oh god, he might as well chew on the nearest lemon right now. It might be less painful than the infection from whatever bacteria infested needle and thread the man was going to use to give him terminal septicemia.

The doctor removed the dressing looking at it with interest at how the porous weave had soak the blood away from the wound keeping it clean and at the powder. "What was this powder?" he asked as he cleaned the area with cool alcohol.

"It's an... ow, fuck that hurts, it's an antiseptic." Rodney gritted his teeth, trying to not whine, but he might as well have been swabbing Rodney's skin with everclear.

"An antiseptic? Something to prevent infection?" That didn't fill him with confidence. He guessed they hadn't a huge amount of experience with it.

"Like the alcohol you're using. Only it's suitable for field use. The bandage was one of our field dressings." He clenched his fingers into a loose fist, watching the doctor step back slightly before turning to his tray of equipment.

The doctor nodded and very carefully put it to one side. He was more interested in that than anything else which was disconcerting. However whatever it was he rubbed around the wound numbed the area very swiftly which was just as well because he didn't want to look at the way he was sewing through skin.

It made Rodney feel stomach sick, made his skin crawl to watch the way the needle tugged through his flesh, and the thread followed after it, over and over again. He was going to have a scar, _and_ he was going to be sick, and since Rodney didn't want to have to deal with both at nearly the same period of time, he closed his eyes and tipped his head back to look at the ceiling.

"It's a clean cut and it doesn't look like it will get infected," the doctor said as if he was extremely lucky to hear that news

"And I really wanted to die of a simple staph infection." He kept his eyes closed, because he could still feel that strange tugging through the numb.

"A what?" 

Really, it was impossible. He didn’t need to be worried about a life time of slavery, he was going to die in a few days from something ridiculously easy to prevent like a simple infection. As if things couldn't get worse.

What he wouldn't give for Carson to be here right now. Carson was practically a...demi-god of medicine compared to this idiot. Anyone with a bag of magic beans and a rattle was probably at least on _par_ with that man, and probably twice as soothingly self-confident.

"Never mind."

"There we go." The man said and re wrapped the arm. "Be good as new in seven days or so. We'll get the stitches out then." He smiled at Kolya hesitantly and the other man nodded. 

"Dr. McKay, time to leave."

The hesitation was the thing that kept telling Rodney that yes, it was an act. They were _afraid_ of Kolya, his own people. Either afraid, or so shaken with respect that they did _that_ when they looked at him, and Rodney had a hard time believing that. 

He slipped off the hard examination table, and walked back towards Kolya.

"My quarters are not far. They are substantial as far as they go and I will assume that you will be trustworthy enough to have the run of the place. I have two other Allocated at the moment. Gisera, who is currently fulfilling service as housekeeper and Jadon who assists. Jadon has only a month left so it is possible that you might be fulfilling some of his duties when he leaves."

Three 'allocations' meant that Kolya was a busy man in the field, and he did a lot of prisoner-taking. "And what are his duties? Because I can't cook."

"Believe me, cooking is not one of his talents either." Kolya smiled a little. "Rest assured it would be something well within you capabilities Dr. McKay...Rodney."

They entered an elevator that took them up a level.

It reminded Rodney of the elevator that he'd relied on for six years when he'd lived in a rat-trap apartment at Northwestern when he'd gone through his first 'self-sufficient' period. The walls shook and vibrated with the motion, enough that Rodney wondered how they were powering it. "I'm a professionally trained scientist and engineer, not a... domestic worker."

"Indeed, and you will earn me a good deal of money," Kolya replied. "However, I have no doubt you will turn out to be adaptable."

Adaptable. Rodney clenched his jaw again, and looked up at the ceiling, hoping that there was a hint at how the elevator worked.

"Sure. Adaptable."

That seemed to content Kolya, as much as he could read the man's expressions, which was hard. He reminded him of Colonel Sumner before they met the Wraith for the first time. Lorne had seen him die and it was obviously something out of nightmares.

The area seemed more... affluent somehow. Well lit, with tasteful decor which was a little surprising. There were openings and some decorated spaces built in, in a way that reminded him of some underground shopping mall complete with faux Zen gardens and water features. Kolya was obviously no slouch in Genii society, military or otherwise.

His apartment turned out to be a relatively non-descript doorway with the most minimal of number sequences on the outside and basic keypad lock that Rodney could've rewired in his sleep but was evidently top of the range for the Genii.

Kolya opened the door and gestured for him to enter. Maybe sometime Rodney _would_ rewire it in his sleep. Just to see what happened.

Inside, there was that touch of faux Amish to things again. The walls were wood paneled, and the lighting was all installed, probably running off of the mastergrid that the rest of the city was on. Rodney would work that out soon enough -- if he was going to be doing work, he could learn their techniques soon enough. 

And he was fairly sure that he could learn more from hands on work with their technology than he could from talking with Gisera and Jadon. But for the cultural, for a hint of how bad it was going to be... Rodney would certainly turn to them for that. As it was, he walked in ahead of Kolya into the narrow entry hallway.

It looked semi dated in a strange way. As the door shut, he heard a movement ahead of him, and a woman with long black hair, tied back, and a plain, if attractive, dress opened the door and looked out. She looked startled at see him, but her expression resolved to smiles as she saw Kolya.

"Welcome home, sir!" she said with what appeared to be genuine pleasure. "Jadon will be so pleased. He has been listening to the news transmissions for news of you."

"I am sure he has." Kolya's voice edged towards indulgent, and Rodney twisted a little when Kolya closed the door behind them. "I will need you to set the table for one more. Doctor McKay was allocated to me as a result of the mission."

The girl was genuinely _happy_ to see him, and it made Rodney's stomach twist. Yeah, it was just another day in their life there, and his being turned upside down. "I'm allergic to citrus. If there's any citrus in whatever it is, I'll be a _dead_ allocation."

"I haven't killed anyone with my cooking _yet_ ," Gisera replied tartly.

There was the sound of someone running down the stairs and Rodney glanced around to see a young man, probably about the same age as Ford, run down and hang over the rail.

"Acastus! They haven't even announced your return. I was getting worried! You haven't needed the doctors this time?"

"No Jadon, I'm afraid not," Kolya replied seeming amused. "I know that will be a disappointment to you."

"You know how I like it when you play wounded hero for me..." The young man grinned at him and then glanced over at Rodney.

Rodney lifted his good hand and gave a vague wave. He was in hell. Once, he'd thought that hell was Area 51 on the quiet slow days when the odd news reporter had tried to break in, looking for aliens. Or that hell had been Siberia, except the booze had been pretty good and fairly reliable in its existence, but living in the middle of a fanclub for the man who had just, just cost him the City of the Ancients?

That was hell.

"Gisera, Jadon this is Doctor Rodney McKay. We will call him Rodney," Kolya said. "He is my latest allocated and very valuable for state service."

Jadon seemed to relax a little at that, as if he had expected a rival.

"I expect the both of you to make him welcome, and help him adjust to his situation. His people have no... concept of such a thing as Allocation so I will rely on you both to help him understand." Kolya handed his jacket to Jadon, who hung it up and then was beckoned forward and treated to a kiss that belonged in some sort of porn movie.

Evidently destroying cities made Kolya horny as all hell. And Jadon _liked_ it. Clearly the Genii didn't have 'Don't ask, Don't tell' to worry about. Rodney glanced over at Gisera, trying to guess how normal that was, because--

"I want you to fuck me after dinner," Jadon panted, loudly enough to make Rodney flinch. "Please."

"Perhaps..." Kolya said with a half smile.

Gisera made a noise. "I suppose I should be grateful that you are waiting until after dinner. Although I can't help but notice that it is conveniently at the time when you should be helping me clear up."

"Ah well, in payment, Jadon, you will take Rodney and show him to his room, and ensure he has opportunity to bathe and have fresh clothing. Then you may come and assist me," Kolya said as if granting a favor.

"Come on Rodney," Jadon said, reluctantly stepping away from the older man and this just couldn't be real. It was some massive joke or he was lying with a concussion somewhere.

What he was... was lying flat out on his back in the infirmary after a huge electrical shock from the gate that actually didn't start a self-destruct sequence since it had hit Rodney and not any sensitive equipment, which meant it was a huge huge hallucination.

Or he was dead and it was hell. It was A or B, but not the man who'd had his arm cut open acting relaxed with his prisoners. There were two of them already -- logically, they should have been able to kill Kolya in his sleep and make a run for their freedom, but they _hadn't_.

"Lead the way."

Jadon headed along assuming Rodney would follow. "Doctor huh? Does that mean you'll be working a medical shift? Acastus had a doctor...a healer once from Vorcasta. Her name was Linarys. She was pretty good but she worked out her service inside of a year. "

Rodney followed, happy to get away from Kolya for at least a few minutes. A hot bath and clean clothes sounded good when he was so close to exhaustion. "I'm a scientist." It wasn't too surprising that any _good_ Doctor had worked themselves free and probably run for it.

"Oh a scientist? That's interesting. I was a rescue from Urstan... have you ever been there? I mean, before the culling?" Jadon asked hopefully.

Rescue. Rescue, well, that was probably why he was so pliable towards Kolya, Rodney decided. "No. I'm, I was on Atlantis." The steps were narrow, and he tried to not walk too closely to Jadon as they mounted the stairs.

"Atlantis? Oh the City of the Ancestors..." Jadon seemed interested. "That must've been exciting. Just up here Rodney. We're lucky, we get a good ration of hot water."

"Great." 'Just up here' proved to be in the narrow hallway that started off the stairwell, the door at the end of it. He hoped that the narrow hallways meant that there was a lot of room in the actual _rooms_ , and watching Jadon swing open the bathroom door was something that gave Rodney an almost sense of relief. It still looked like a bathroom, and the size wasn't bad. "It was exciting. It was _home_ \-- everything worked for me. I could open the doors and control the water and the lights, and today, as of today, the city of the Ancestors is gone." Saying it didn't make it feel real yet, but he'd tried to turn off the sequence, and then he'd been dragged towards the gate, and it hadn't been a wormhole closing behind them so much as one collapsing behind them, a distinct difference of sonics.

"Oh..." Jadon did look mildly sympathetic. "I know what it is like to lose your home. I'm sorry for your loss. I hope not too many of your family were culled?"

Well of course he would assume it was the Wraith.

When Jadon stepped into the bathroom, Rodney followed him in, and started to take his jacket off again. "No, it wasn't wraith. We'd evacuated the city because of an incoming weather system, and Kolya lead a group of Genii to attack the city. And I didn't have time to get the shields functioning properly before everything went to hell because your 'dear', your owner or whatever the hell he is decided it was a better idea to interrogate me than to let me do my work!"

"Acastus did not want to lead a raid, but the Chief ordered him to do it!" Jadon defended him. "They want to be ready when the Wraith come _here_ . Because they will. They go everywhere. They would've come to your city of the ancestors and taken that from you too! Do not blame Acastus for doing _his_ job. He is trying to protect his own home."

And of course he was defending him. Kolya had probably rescued the kid from a tree or something. "We had _ships_ and nuclear bombs, and a whole planet with billions of people on it on the other side of our gate! And you people gave it up for Penicillin and C4!"

Jadon was looking at him as if he was talking crazy, and maybe he was. "Look, Rodney...this must be feeling wrong to you, I know that. I cried pretty much every night for a month and didn't get out of bed for a week when I first got here. But it could be worse...you really could do a lot worse than Commander Kolya as your Protector. I've been trained in valuable skills while I've been here, eaten well, been... well, lets just say when my term of service is complete I shall be entering Commander Kolya's regiment. I don't want to leave, and neither will you if you have any sense. This is far more secure than any planet I have ever heard of."

"Maybe in _this_ Galaxy, but I'm not from Pegasus." He started to pull at his shirt, but his arm was killing him and his fingers felt thick, fumbling. Between that and the throbbing in his skull, and the fact that Jadon kept _looking_ at him, Rodney was going to hit something.

"Here, let me help you," Jadon said in a softer voice. "It's going to be okay Rodney, really. What's done is done. You'll better after a bath and some food okay?"

"I'd feel better if I was back in Canada." Or Colorado. Anything but _there_ , in Pegasus. The only consolation was that between Carson and Lorne and Ford, the survivors would be okay. They'd manage. Teyla and Halling would help. And they'd _find_ Rodney. 

Jadon reached for the zipper, and Rodney jerked back. "Just, don't, I'm fine, I don't need help."

"Fine...fine, okay..." Jadon put his hands up and backed off. "Look I'll go get you some clothes. Just...try not to drown yourself or something."

"Do I look like I'm prone to drowning myself?" He snapped that out, and Jadon finally backed away from him, and stepped outside, closing the door. 

Rodney slouched to sit on the edge of the tub, exhaling shakily. Now he just had to work out how to undress. Boots first. Boots first, one piece at a time, concentrating on staying calm and not doing anything stupid until he’d at least had food and gotten some sleep.

He could preserve his life, he could make the best of this until rescue came. Because Carson wouldn't leave him here, he knew that. Not even if there was a faint chance. Lorne would do something stupidly brave egged on by Ford, and he was pretty sure Teyla would get in on the action too. Teyla would know where to get information on them, and when word got out they had left before Atlantis went down it would be just a matter of time before there was a mission.

He just needed to persevere. One day at a time, one boot at a time. Rodney hunched in on himself, struggling with the laces for a moment, because the water had saturated them and made the knots tighter than he'd tied them that morning.

He wasn't going to be the one to fall apart. He knew Elizabeth and Bates would be thinking that it would be him, but that wasn't going to happen. He was smarter than the entire planet and if there was a way to be found, he'd find it. That was what he was good at. Last minute solutions and dire situations. Just because he was in the hands of the enemy that shouldn't be any different. 

It wouldn't be any different.

* * *

Carson hadn't really been into Star Trek - not in the same way that most of the other scientists seemed to be, but right now he felt a distinct kinship with Dr. McCoy because he found himself constantly thinking "How the bloody hell should I know, I'm a doctor not a leader!" Or a theoretical physicist. Or a botanist. Or a soldier.

Occasionally he even said it when he had a line of people 5 deep waiting to ask him what to do. Like he had a clue. Ever since they had tried redialing the Atlantis address and it had refused to lock and they stood there at the gate trying on and off for three days _just in case_ , people had decided he was some sort of interim stand in for Rodney and Elizabeth combined.

As if he could ever stand in for even one of them let alone both to a group of scared Athosians and Earth natives. Manara was treating them warily, especially after the fact he had stormed out when they told him that their contact with the Genii said that everyone who had gone to the City of the Ancestors had not returned.

He didn't believe it. He didn't believe Rodney could be gone, or Elizabeth. Lorne and Ford had been out with Teyla, hunting down leads, trying to get information back on the Genii. If they weren't all practically living out of the Gateships, he would authorize -- ha! him authorizing -- a Gateship to make some flyovers of the Genii home world. Take some readings, see if they could pick up on Rodney, or Elizabeth or Bates.

If it was even possible to pick up three life signs among however many people the Genii had on their planet. A hundred thousand, maybe, and that was being generous. Maybe 50,000. Most populations ran thin in Pegasus. But they had to try something, except they weren't in any situation to try anything without the intelligence that Teyla assured them she would find.

At least, at least the Athosians seemed comfortable with the idea of helping the earth natives. At least Halling seemed to have answers when people asked him. He'd mentioned to Carson gates they could explore, other places they could settle than with the lying Manarians.

So here he was, looking at endless bits of paper, usually with ridiculous demands from Kavanagh for something utterly impossible because he was head of the scientists by default. He'd managed to make a list of priorities based on close consultation with Halling and Teyla. 

They knew this galaxy - Elizabeth might've known more diplomacy but he knew he didn't and he needed someone to tell him how not to screw up. Manara was not a good place to settle. They turned out to be strongly affiliated with the Genii and he pretty much felt like he was waiting for some kind of trap to close on them. They needed somewhere defensible. They needed a decent level of technology to work with. If Teyla was right, the Wraith would not spare them just because they were in a state. No.

He grimaced at the piece of paper and made his now traditional list of priorities.

Every single time number one was "Find Rodney."

 _They_ needed Rodney to pull miracles out of his ass for them -- they needed power and water and a way to defend themselves, all basic needs that he could help them overcome with his determined way of doing things. But Carson needed him, needed to know he was safe and sound and at least with _them_ facing against the wraith instead of captured by the Genii. And then perhaps he could function as a leader, because his head would clear out of worries.

He knew enough to know that him stumbling around aimlessly wouldn't help in the slightest. He wasn't trained to do that. He was still the strongest gene-holder in the Pegasus Galaxy barring any stray ancients they ran into and that meant he was apparently their greatest hope of finding and using a weapon against the Wraith. That was a hell of a burden to be walking around with on top of everything else.

He heard voices outside and looked up. Evan must be back, with Teyla. Maybe they would have some news for him. The temptation was enough to send him outside the Gateship and shielding his eyes against the contrast in light, to look around.

Their 'camp' still looked the same as it had every other time he'd stepped outside. The Atlanteans in Gateships, but around, too. There were transient structures put up by the Athosians, campfires from the messhall cooks who were trying to prepare enough food for them all with Athosian help. There was a rack with meat drying on it, and things like that had worried him until Halling had pointed out that it was easy to grab the meat and run into the puddle jumpers and flee if they must. There was truly nothing important in the camp, except for the people.

"Doctor Beckett. We have returned."

"Teyla... Major Lorne," Carson said. "Any luck this time? Any news of Rodney or Elizabeth and Major Bates?"

He really, really hoped so. God, he knew it had to be written all over his face which would be one reason they needed Elizabeth back. He didn't have much of a poker face for negotiations.

"I... am afraid not. However, this Commander Kolya guy was seen with a unit a few days ago, so there were survivors, if he was actually the one who led the Genii against Atlantis." Lorne rattled it off so off the cuff.

"The Manarians seemed very convinced that Commander Kolya would be the one to lead such an operation." Teyla looked at him, even as he nodded.

"Aye, I remember. He's some kind of living military legend to them. Who else to send on a raid to the city of the ancestors?" Carson said with a barely audible sigh. "Still, as my mother says, no news is good news. I think we have to assume that they might be captive of the Genii. Has Ford come back from the planets recommended by Halling? Before we can do much else we need a proper base."

"Not yet, but he did pass a communication that he wanted to do further investigation with his team on two of the planets. Also, that one of them had dinosaurs." Lorne didn't seem concerned, and he even managed a smile.

Dinosaurs. Well, if giant lizards were going to roam any planet, it'd be a planet in Pegasus, Carson decided.

"Well, I'm not likely to suggest we decamp to Jurassic park as a new base. We'll see what he comes up with," Carson replied. "Any other news out there?"

"There is news of a coming culling. The Wraith travel in patterns, and there are survivors running out ahead of those patterns. Manara is in the direct line of this pattern." Teyla’s posture was telling -- her face was blank, composed, but her stance, the tightness of her muscles, told Carson that she was anticipating. Scared, maybe. "There are those among the Athosians who can sense them coming, and we have not sensed them yet."

Carson stared at her blankly. "The Wraith are coming here?". Teyla never got scared. Except about the Wraith. Most other things she took in her stride with a natural grace and competence. "Well that's not good news..."

"We should recall any off world teams," Lorne suggested. "Keep everyone close. From what Teyla says they dial in and lock the Stargate on a culling."

"To prevent prey from escaping," Teyla agreed softly. "There has been talk of the great ships moving through on the cullings. I have never seen such a major culling, but the Wraith have slept through five of my people's generations." 

"Hibernating until the food supply repopulated sufficiently," Carson agreed. "We'll call everyone to stay close to the jumpers. Teyla, how much warning do you think we can get?"

"Perhaps..." She looked at Lorne, and then back to Carson, and her expression was faintly anxious. "Five, ten minutes. Perhaps. If they come in a great ship, I will sense them sooner. If they come in darts, we will have a minute or two of warning."

Carson swallowed a little. They were going to lose people. With that sort of turn around they were going to lose people. "Evan, how many people do we have who can fly Gateships?"

They'd made it out with 9 of them. Nine crammed with people and gear still packed in carefully.

"Counting you?" Lorne flashed Carson a smile. "Two other natural gene carriers, and maybe fifteen implants. So that's 18, and maybe 11 who I’d trust to not crash us into a tree. Sir."

"I'm thinking we'll need to have people who can pilot Gateships with a ship at all times. Starting now." He shrugged little. "I know I haven't tried but I don't think I can fly all of them remotely. Not sure I'd even want to try. Evan, would you mind organizing that now for me? I want to just talk with Teyla a little."

"Of course, sir." Lorne gave him a tight smile and turned to head towards one of the other Gateships. Carson was probably one of those that he'd counted in the not trusting them to fly him into a tree group, which was true enough to not actually bother Carson. 

Teyla stepped closer to him, and gestured to the inside of the equipment packed Gateship. "You are doing well, Carson."

"Thank you for saying so lass, but I think I'm going to disagree with you there," Carson replied trying not to sound as anxious as he was. "I feel like I’m flailing around a little helplessly at the moment. Would you like to sit down a moment? I want to ask you about the Genii."

"I am not sure what to tell you about them," Teyla admitted. She did sit down, though, posture relaxing finally once they were tucked into the shelter of the Gateship. "My people believed they were simple, placid farmers. That is the impression they give to most cultures they are not directly allied with."

"Has anyone mentioned anything since about... about this Commander Kolya? Or what they might do with prisoners?" Carson asked. "I'm not even going to bother trying to hide it Teyla, I'm very worried about our missing people. It's obvious Atlantis is destroyed, but I really don't think the Genii would've left them behind."

"They would not. I have been speaking with the Manarians. The Genii..." Teyla opened her mouth, and Carson could see her rewording things on the inside of her head. "The Genii are known by their allies as a people who take hostages when they can, rather than kill. The hostages serve as personal servants to ranking members, and usually are integrated into the Genii culture. It keeps their bloodline diverse. We do have planets where the people have been unwilling to gate-travel and have... degenerated due to this."

"So... if they took Rodney, Elizabeth and Bates, then the odds are that they are with Chief Cowen or people close to him yes?" Carson asked, feeling a glimmer of hope. "Which makes things tricky."

"As far as I understand their methods, yes." Teyla inclined her head in the vague gesture that Carson had come to take as a nod from the Athosians. "It would be wise to have a solid strategic location to work from if we are to retrieve them. They place a high value on life, even if they are ruthless in their pursuit of a goal, so we must work with the assumption that they will not come to harm."

"I suppose that is a blessing," Carson answered. "Truth is, I feel... If we had Rodney he would've found some answer already, and Elizabeth would've negotiated some treaty..." He shrugged a little. "Teyla, I have a newfound respect for you, being a leader so young."

"My father was a wise man, and tried hard to raise me in his footsteps. But I am not without help, Doctor Beckett. Halling is my right hand. Do not be afraid to lean on people for help. Knowing what you do not know is the sign of a strong leader." 

"That part is easy," Carson replied with a part smile. "That amounts to pretty much everything. I'll understand if the Athosians decide to break away at any point. I don't want you too, but you have your responsibilities and we are likely to attract more attention."

"We have no planet to call home," Teyla reminded him gently. "And we would like to fight the Wraith. Many of our people have made friends with your people, and see this as a beneficial union for us all. I am inclined to agree.

That was a relief because Carson wasn't ready to go it blind in Pegasus. Elizabeth might have a decade or two of understanding and dealing with different cultures but his people skills were down to individuals.

"Well maybe we can find a home here together because without Rodney or the Atlantis Gate, as I understand it we can't go anywhere. There was some special control crystal in that Gate that other ones just do not have," Carson replied trying very hard to sound upbeat. "We might run across one, and a ZPM, but. I'm not sure if our scientists have the same amount of uh, practical skill Rodney has. "

He was never going to slip into past tense. Not unless he saw his body and that wasn't going to happen. It was _possible_ , yes, but it simply… Simply was _not_ going to be. Carson needed it to not be, and he was just going to continue thinking as positively as he could.

"Perhaps they will surprise you." She even said it with a soft smile, and Carson half expected her to lean forwards and pat his arm. Teyla would have made a fine doctor, with a very reassuring bedside manner.

"I am sure that we will be able to retrieve him and Doctor Weir, and Sergeant Bates."

"Aye, well I'm holding on until then. I'm only keeping the seat warm for Elizabeth because Evan doesn't want to make this a military command, and everyone was unanimous that I would be better than Kavanagh." Carson smiled a little. "I'm only used to dealing with a team of doctors and medical researchers. I can understand why Rodney always gets so annoyed with his scientists. They do have a tendency to be a wee bit whiney. Much like myself at the moment actually come to think of it. You're right, we need to be ready for the Wraith and I shouldn't be sitting here wallowing when I should be working."

The edges of her mouth pulled up, and then Teyla was standing, drawing herself up gracefully. "You are mourning the city of the ancestors. I will fetch Halling and we will discuss strategies and how my people can be of aid."

"I'd appreciate that." Maybe he was breaking every rule that Elizabeth had set down about integrating too much with the Athosians and polluting their culture, but he had to think the bonds they had with the Athosians were a good thing. And privately, he thought that maybe that they weren't polluting that culture because there was one fundamental thing that maybe Elizabeth missed. From his opinion, the Athosians central precepts were all about survival and they sought out and embraced anything that would give them that chance, enriching their own culture with what would work. It was an alien thing to them from Earth on the surface, but underneath it they were the same. They had a common ground in trying to survive and if that meant tampering and giving information and working together, they didn't have the luxury any more of pretending things would be better working alone.

There was a lot that Carson knew he could learn from them, and a lot that he hoped he could share with them. And maybe, maybe together they'd all survive a while longer. Long enough for the hope of another ZPM, a gate crystal, and a defensible base to seem realistic.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't anything like he'd expected.

Life on the Genii homeworld was quiet. Busy, but quiet. He had a small room that was decorated in the semi... Rodney wanted to call it Victorian, but Amish also worked – Amish-chic living quarters. There was a lot of hand-made _things_ , the bed, the desk, the soft mattress that was killing his back because it bent his spine all out of shape when he slept, because it sagged in the middle and he inevitably ended up rolled into that sag.

And as far as taskmasters went, Kolya was... not so bad, Rodney had to admit grudgingly. He kept a tight schedule, but that was it. They got up just before dawn, which was too early for Rodney, but also better than the afore-threatened torture. Marginally. Breakfast was simple -- crisp dry bread, some kind of hummus-like paste smeared across it, dry meat, sometimes biscuits, and fresh fruit with the bitter spice tava-paste drink that served as Pegasus 'coffee'. It tasted more like bitter chocolate and cinnamon with nutmeg with a healthy dash of creosote but it certainly acted as a stimulant.

It had taken Rodney more than a little while to get across that citrus was death to people who didn't even know what citrus was. He'd only come perilously close to demise once, with a fresh fruit slice that had smelled sharp, familiar -- like a grapefruit, even if the visual texture was all wrong. The smell was enough, and Kolya had actually believed him when he'd said that he would _die_ if he came into contact with one of those fruits, ate one, because _that_ was citrus, that and things like it. Jadon and Gisera still thought he was crazy, of course, but it was to be expected. They went about their daily business, and he was escorted to the labs, where his first priority was grinding it into their scientist's heads that they _needed_ to fix their shielding and how to do it, otherwise they would be dead before they got to launch bombs. He was just biding time until they were rescued or an opportunity to escape arose, but Rodney was going to be damned if he was going to die of radiation poisoning in the meantime.

The down-time he had on his hands was strange, though and unfamiliar after Atlantis. Gisera cleaned and read and sewed and apparently happily visited with other women in nearby apartments. Someone in the nearest apartment had a baby that she was cooing about. Jadon sat at Kolya's feet, reading while the Genii commander did paperwork, and Rodney sat on the other side of the study, trying to ignore the scene and translating his understanding of nuclear theory into something the Genii could grasp better.

Acastus Kolya didn't often have visitors that came to his home, but occasionally there would be a few who came to him. Old friends, fellow Commanders, all who treated him with a form of deference and respect, if not obvious awe.

Admittedly, Rodney had a few issues reconciling the man who had sliced up his arm to get his own way, to the genial Protector of the stories that Jadon and Gisera rattled on about over meals. Or even the evidence of his own eyes in the way that he expected the very best work and effort from people and he reluctantly had to admit that he wasn't that different in his expectations of _his_ scientists.

Today though, even as he tried to recall the science fair project complete with simplistic explanations to note down for the Genii, they did have an unexpected visitor.

Gisera bustled in having answered the door. "Sir, Commander Sora and her Allocated Elizabeth to see you. Shall I prepare some refreshments?"

"Please do," Kolya replied standing up to greet his guests. "Commander Sora, a pleasure I am sure."

Sora entered the room, all smiles. "Commander Kolya. Someone in records let slip today that with your last mission you achieved the highest rank of the red in recorded history. And here I find you at home, not celebrating with your troops. I do not think such an achievement should go unmarked."

She brandished an old bottle with a distinctive looking glass shape and Rodney was surprise to see Kolya's eyes light up. "Vratch Liquor? 20 year old?"

"50. From my father’s store - with his permission of course," Sora replied and Kolya took the bottle and dusted it off reverentially.

"Your father has been hoarding liquid gold. I see you have brought your Allocated?"

"She was most insistent upon seeing her countryman in person," Sora said even as Gisera brought in some fine crystal glasses.

"Well then, let them... catch up. Rodney, you may talk to your once colleague in private if you wish."

Which was fine by Rodney. 'In Private' meant his room, but there was a desk and a chair and he really preferred it when people did things 'in private' instead of Jadon hanging all over Kolya's leg like that, even if he was standing up because Sora was there. Sora the equally crazy Genii markswoman, who'd looked so cute and dainty, almost, in her skirt and corset and straw hat.

Which was a lot like what Elizabeth was wearing, and he hadn't ever thought she was a corset type.

"Thank you. Elizabeth...?" He left his papers there on the 'bearing-board' he'd been using like a desk, and set it all on the floor before standing up. The last thing he wanted was to be around drunk Genii, and he needed to see that Elizabeth was still well.

"Rodney," Elizabeth stepped over to see him even as they stepped out of the room. "You're looking... better than I anticipated. I've been worried sick about you."

She probably thought he was having daily beatings for his habit of berating people for being idiots.

"I was worried about you, too." And himself, but Kolya was a _quiet_ taskmaster, and he hadn't asked Rodney to get to work on anything that was out of his league. He hadn't hit Rodney, as was apparently his right, and he hadn't threatened Rodney since the first day. All in all it was unexpected.

He led the way out into the hallway, and headed up the narrow stairs, expecting Elizabeth to follow. "How have you been? Other than... apparently, without your uniform." Not that he was much better. But at least he was dressed somewhat normal, pants and a shirt, no funny knee-breaches and tights.

"Corsets. I know," Elizabeth twitched a smile. "I had to go up on the surface today with Sora to observe a contact. I've been..." She made a face. "Adapting I guess. Sora has one other Allocated called Russul and he terrorizes everyone. He seems to run the household. How are you? Really? Has Kolya been...treating you well?"

"Yes." Rodney turned to look at her while he pushed open the door to his room. "Surprisingly, although I'm probably worth more to him alive than even slightly injured. You can thank me when we don't all die of radiation poisoning in a few weeks. Jadon runs the household here, and there's Gisera who does the cooking and cleaning things." And probably _also_ slept with Kolya, but Rodney... really didn't want to think about anything that went on in the master bedroom.

"I'm glad about that. Bates hasn't been doing so well," Elizabeth said. "I've seen him a few times with bruises because Sora and Idos seem to work for the same... battalion. He _apparently_ keeps trying to escape. I almost feel guilty for biding my time."

"I don't." Rodney let her enter the small space first, eager to close the door behind him. "If you keep trying to escape, they'll only lock down tighter on you. Things are... relatively structured here. I could jimmy the door if I needed to, when they sleep, except if I escape and you and Bates don't, I don't want to think about what might happen to you."

"Yes, Sora hasn't exactly come out and said anything yet, but it was hinted that if someone escaped then the consequences would not be good." Elizabeth sat down on the bed. "Rodney, is there any way we can find of communicating? They've split us up very effectively. We just don't seem to coincide. You're in the labs, and I'm out doing political missions and negotiation, which takes me back a little to my UN days. There's a lot of politics out there and though we might be fine at the moment, things are...things could change."

Rodney watched her for a moment as the mattress swallowed her a little, sinking beneath her, and his back twinged just thinking about it. "Things could change. But Sora is in his, she's in Kolya's strike force unit or whatever they call themselves. If something _does_ go politically strange, the two of them and Idos should all be on the same side?" And if something were to happen to the planet, hopefully they'd do the evacuating thing all at once. Rodney wasn't sure, but his mind kept straying to the next possible huge disaster. "I don't know. I don't have access to technology or tools here -- just writing materials."

"They should be. But the last coup they had, that put Cowen into power, ended up with them slaughtering the ranking officers and their households. It's made Cowen a little distrusted and there are cracks in his control. Up to that point, they were supporting him," Elizabeth explained. "Kolya was his second, but he got relegated away from the centre of power. There is a lot of resentment about that. You need to be aware. And Kolya's status is growing immeasurably through the advances you are making, even in this short time. I don't tell Sora everything I see. Perhaps we can work out some sort of code? Perhaps we can persuade them to allow letters that they can read them and put in some code?"

Coup. Of course the Genii had political coups, they went to so much trouble to hide what they really were, why wouldn't they take it to another layer of insanity? Slaughtering the ranking officers and their households, though -- if someone tried to overthrow Cowen in the same manner, then the care with which Kolya locked the doors at night had a whole new layer of meaning.

Rodney pulled his chair out from his desk, and sat down heavily.

"Okay, okay, uh, I never good at this game in school so we need to come up with some predefined terms _right_ now so I'll be able to remember them."

"The best codes are the ones that those watching have no terms of reference for," Elizabeth said in a low voice. "We can talk about things from Earth. Harmless things that would be natural to miss or that they might think you can enjoy. Like...coffee. You talking about coffee wouldn't be unusual would it? Maybe if there is a blend you liked and it meant safe or doing fine when you mentioned it? I could do the same with tea. I like Earl Grey...that could mean fine."

"So if I mention Columbian roast, that could mean fine. And... French roast could mean I'm not doing okay." When she gave him a vaguely funny look, he pointed out, "Look, the taste is sort of burnt. That's all."

Elizabeth laughed a little. "Okay, I think I can remember that. My 'not fine' can be uh... lapsang souchong. I've always found it a bit...unpleasant. How about the possibility of escape? That should have something specific."

And something they had no reference to, right, which made Rodney's brain twist itself into a knot for a moment before he offered, "Disneyland?"

"Disneyland is certainly good for escapism," Elizabeth replied with a smile and then worked through a few more words that could be in this limited vocabulary. This all relied of course on Kolya or Sora _allowing_ them to actually correspond. And it meant he might have to write actual non offensive letters to someone which would be a first.

Something to do with his apparently excessive free time other than try to ignore the situation he was in. At least it was a plan, and it was something to distract themselves with while they had time together. Otherwise he'd start asking things like 'How do you think Carson's doing', and she wouldn't know any more than he would.

At least she got to go topside and see a little sunlight and fresh air. 

"I think that's a manageable list."

"Works for me. Can't write it down," Elizabeth said and smiled at him. "I've really missed you Rodney. Even though I suppose we're in the same area."

"Where... where in the apartments are you? In case I ever get leave. Gisera comes and goes as she pleases, so..." So, maybe some day. Maybe. Then again, she was another rescuee, and given the comparable state she'd been in there was no reason for her to run.

"On the fourth level -- Sora ranks pretty highly but not as highly as Kolya," Elizabeth said. "Number 5791, if that's of any help to you."

Rodney closed his eyes for a half-moment, committing it to memory. "5791. It's worth remembering. How does she... treat you?"

"She was a little...heavy handed to begin with, but she's been reasonable recently, " Elizabeth said and was about to say some more when he heard Kolya's voice.

"Rodney? Elizabeth... Come back to the study." His tone did not sound particularly pleased.

Rodney hadn't actually heard Kolya sound like that since he'd been taken as an allocation. At home, Kolya was mellow, calm. He didn't get angry because if Rodney were honest, none of them gave him a _reason_ to be anything other than a little sharp from time to time. He got to his feet, and hurried to pull the door open. "Come on. It's probably better if we hurry."

"Mm yes," Elizabeth agreed and the pair of them headed back out down to the study. When they got there, Kolya was holding some sort of official communication and Sora was sitting down, her head in her hands. Jadon and Gisera were not much better.

"Rodney... " Kolya looked at him. "I think you and Elizabeth should sit down."

"Why?" Official communications weren't good on any planet, any Galaxy, but Rodney edged over to his chair. He'd thought Gisera was out, so whatever it was had been worth bringing her back in for.

"I've just received word," Kolya said. "Manara has been culled."

The words didn't sound quite right, didn't sink in immediately. It was said with a weight that implied it should hit him hard, but the planet designation for Manara was... was where they'd gone to offload the city. That was where Carson was, where the rest of the Atlanteans and the Athosians were, and there was no way that that could happen twice, two events like that so close, the, the... The very _odds_ of it were impossible.

"And the survivors?" Because if some other Genii got his hands or her hands on Carson, he could at least see him, and there were worse fates, there was the fate of being wraith food, and that was what he was hoping Kolya would say, that the Atlanteans were being allocated out.

"There were only 23 survivors. All of the Manarian command," Kolya replied. "They are the ones who reported that the recent Atlantean and Athosian refugees that had a temporary base there were culled with no survivors."

"No..." Elizabeth said in a shocked voice beside him. "That can't be true. Not all of them."

"All of them and all of the Manarians as well. The attack was swift and using unparalleled force. The Manarians blamed the presence of the Atlanteans for that." Kolya was looking at them both.

"A whole planet, just..." Rodney sucked in a breath, staring at Kolya. A whole planet, just gone. Just over, done with, and all of his people. All of his scientists, his stupid scientists, Carson...

Culled. Cocooned on some Wraith ship, tucked away as food. Or already dead, and that just -- it couldn't _be_.

They were alone. He and Elizabeth were alone and if he hadn't just sat back and waited for a rescue... He could've gotten out, he could've done something, rigged a sensor, got them enough warning.

"How do we know this is the truth?" Elizabeth demanded. "How do we know this isn't some means of forcing compliance?"

"I have scarcely had to force anything," Kolya said. "But I have, as part of this dispatch, orders to go to Manara with some troops and ensure that there is no one left to rescue. Rodney, you will accompany me, because no words can describe a culled world."

"We had Gateships. I'm sure, I'm sure they dialed out -- they're just, they're somewhere else. They left Manara." Rodney sat back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. His hands were shaking. The Wraith dialed in so the prey couldn't escape. Teyla had told them that time and time again, and if they came in one of their Hives, there was no escape.

"No one could leave Manara -- the Wraith shut the ring. It's what they do," Sora said from her couch looking at him with pity. 

"There were a series of explosions and a beam bigger than anything ever reported," Kolya replied. "I can only assume they were trying to capture the ships. It was only that distraction that enabled the High council to hide. But if you come, I am sure you will be diligent in searching them. More so than even ourselves."

"Oh god." Rodney leaned forwards, had to, covering his face with his hands. "I'll, I'll go." He needed to see for himself, he needed to see if he could find any wreckage or something, or maybe nothing at all. Maybe there'd be no proof at all, and maybe they'd evaded, somehow. 

He needed to concentrate, or he'd forget how to breathe. He'd fall apart and then he wouldn't be useful at all and he'd never be sure of what had happened...

"We'll be leaving before dawn our time," Kolya replied. "I will ensure you have a uniform and equipment." It was obvious that the dour menacing look came naturally to him when he was stressed.

Sora stood. "I will return to my quarters, Commander." She said focusing on him. "Elizabeth, we are going home."

Rodney couldn't quite even look at her. She and Lorne, and sometimes him -- the expedition had been _their_ project. It never would have happened if they hadn't pushed for it, and now they were trapped there, on an alien planet, and Kolya was telling him to presume that everyone was dead. That it was over, everything, and that everyone he knew was dead and there really was no hope left of ever going home...

And Rodney didn't want to let that hope go. Carson _had_ to be alive, couldn't be dead.

Elizabeth rather unexpectedly put her hand over his and he could feel it shaking. "If... if there is anything to find, Rodney will find it," she said in a strong voice.

"I'm counting on it," Kolya replied. "Good night Commander."

Sora practically herded Elizabeth away, Gisera showing them out even as Kolya walked over to him and sat down next to him. "I am truly sorry Rodney. I know you expected to be freed or rescued. I would be blind not to see that."

"Or stupid." Rodney rubbed one hand over his mouth, still looking down at his knees. Fuck, fuck. "They can't have, not -- there aren't even that many of us. We're just a scientific expedition." And because of that the world, the Galaxy, should have had mercy on them. They should have all been safe in Atlantis, still.

"To the Wraith, you would've been a prize above planets," Kolya said. "New feeding grounds. New details. They would've wanted any Atlantean they could find for interrogation. It would be a mercy to hope that they died in the explosions."

In the explosions. That wouldn't have happened if Kolya had just left them be, if the Genii had just left the city alone. Now they had their fucking C4 and their penicillin and the resources to make more were gone, the resources to do anything, the people to do it, the... The bare, hard facts, the tangible usefulness of a body, and now those bodies were gone. No more voodoo science from Carson, none of Lorne's bad jokes, no Ford wavering between hard edges and softer edges, no...

He wasn't crying. He wasn't going to do any such thing until, not even when he was sure, if he could ever be sure. There was no point, nothing accomplished with saline fluid except dust-free eyes, so Rodney sat back, rubbing at them hard.

He was surprised by a soft sympathetic touch. Something rare from Kolya. "Would you prefer company tonight?" he asked. "Jadon or Gisera -- they both understand what it is to lose everything."

Kolya's hand was heavy on his shoulder, and he was suggesting... what? Sex cured all? Rodney shook his head. "No. No, I'll just -- dawn, right?" He had to rub at his eyes again, and when he looked at Kolya it struck him that the man was too close to him. Too near for comfort's sake.

All he had to do was lean in and...

He didn't. He shifted away, then removing his hand and leaving Rodney alone. "Yes. You should go and rest, Rodney. Jadon, prepare my bath please. Gisera, I would like you to wake us in the morning, but otherwise you are dismissed as well."

There was a quiet noise of 'yes sirs', and Rodney stood, walking back up to his room before anyone could change their mind. That had been a surreal moment, a little too... Something, something that he'd missed the thread of, and it didn't matter. The morning mattered more, finding out what had happened to the expedition and the Athosians.

That was his first priority.

Because right now, until he knew exactly what had happened, how it had happened to all of them...to Carson, he wasn't going to be able to think of anything else.

He needed to know because his whole world has just stopped and he was very afraid it was never going to start again. And Rodney needed it to start around, needed for things to make sense because he'd been in a holding pattern, waiting for Carson or Lorne, or someone with a better idea of the outside in than he had of the inside out.

Rodney closed his door, and then very carefully sat on the edge of the bed. He'd get there and find out that Kolya had been wrong after all. It was as simple, had to be as simple, as that.

* * *

There were usually plenty of volunteers for a post-culling mission because there was always the chance that a pocket of survivors could be brought in for Allocation, and Kolya knew that those who had been rescued saw their new state with the Genii as some sort of amazing good fortune.

But Manara had a lot more riding on it than the luck of a few soldiers. It was the break he was looking for. McKay was adaptable and resilient. He'd not made too much fuss for the reason he was expecting rescue. And because he was expecting rescue, there was no push, no drive to build new weapons. None of the fulfillment of potential he knew that he had. 

So he had set about woo-ing him. Carefully, slowly and with patience. Over the last few weeks he had established that he was trustworthy in his given word, attracted to him, but respectful of his person. Tough, but fair and all in all, there could be a lot worse for Rodney McKay. 

That had been his next step, with Chief Cowen telling him that he hoped he knew what he was doing, and he did. He really did. This wasn't the first time he had done this, but it was the most important time. Rodney McKay would be brilliant for those he cared for. And where the feeling did not grow naturally, he would foster it by... hot housing the situation. Removing hope of rescue. Showing it to him. If there was evidence of survival, Rodney would not see it, but it was likely they really were culled. He hadn't lied about that.

And then, when he was vulnerable, he'd ensure there was another situation that ensured that he would forever see Kolya as a protector, a benefactor and eventually a lover.

Smoke still drifted everywhere as they came out from the Stargate. Ruin was visible from their first step on Manara.

There really was nothing like a culled planet. When it was completely culled, or near to completely culled, and the people fought back where they could -- and they always fought back, hoping a few hundred, a few handfuls of lives could make it to shelter or escape -- the Wraith were ruthless in their destruction. They leveled buildings, exploded supply areas, crushed all hope of resistance before they culled the rest, taking people still screaming into the great hives. 

He still remembered the first culled planet he'd visited. They had been a sparsely populated planet, with a town too near the gate, too proud or sure of themselves to move. The wraith darts had emptied out the towns, without a single shot fired. There were just empty houses, and one cooking fire that had raged out of control without someone to mind it. Woodworking stopped in the middle, meals still half-eaten. Life had simply stopped.

Here, on Manara, life had been crushed.

This was what would happen to his world when the Wraith came. If they were this hungry, this desperate they wouldn't just take the few surface dwellers. They would scan and probe and then they would root out all of the Genii cities. Vartresk would fall, Karsoom, Harlk and all the others. That was what he had to remember.

He gestured for the squads to spread out. They would take what they could, resources of any kind. They always tried to get the first reports because within the next day, the word would be spreading and then the salvagers would be here to pick over the carcass of Manara. He glanced sideways at Rodney and then spoke to the Manarian they had brought with them as a guide. "Terros, would you show us the site of the Athosian and Atlantean encampment?"

"Of course. They had their great ships in a circle, around some structures..." He started out across the burnt grass, heading away from what Kolya knew was the nearest town. It would not be far, though. They'd be able to see it soon, past a copse of charred trees. 

And at his side, McKay was silent for perhaps the first time in his captivity.

Normally the man was talking, complaining, arguing -- usually with himself, which made it all the more strange. There was a constant stream of sound. He reached into his pocket and found one of the items his troops had lifted from Atlantis. Gisera had confirmed that Rodney has spoken of Dr. Beckett most of all and he had hunted through all the bits and pieces they had brought back particularly to find something that was associated with him.

And ensure it was suitably damaged and bloodstained. If they could not find evidence, he would... reinforce the truth.

Otherwise McKay would go on for the rest of his life with this group of people on a pedestal, expecting them to rescue him, and the dead could do no such thing. There was no harm in helping to break McKay of that delusion a little sooner than he would have broken himself of it. 

As they walked, he surreptitiously watched Rodney turn his head, glancing, taking in parts of the barren landscape that Kolya could only guess at. The smell in the air was familiar to him -- when everything from flesh to plant-material to fuels were burned. Rodney looked like it was making him feel nauseous. He had dark circles under his eyes and Kolya doubted that he had slept at all.

"Through here…" Terros said. "There was a rain of fire...we could see it. It hit here first, before they came to the cities. Explosions, then many darts hovering, their beams holding still for some time."

"I see...thank you." Kolya stepped over the small incline to look at the devastated area. Pitted with smoldering impact craters, debris twisted and burnt strew everywhere. A handful of charred bodies and limbs sprawled haphazardly.

He knew then there had been no survivors. He would at least not have to lie. 

It didn't stop Rodney from starting down, starting forwards, walking away from Kolya and towards the impact craters. Perhaps he would recognize one of the bodies, or their strange mode of dress.

He moved over to look at a body himself. It was burned and unrecognizable but some parts of the uniform looked much the same as Rodney's had on his capture. He looked a little closer and then discretely palmed onto the ground the ragged burnt patch with a blue x on it. Some sort of insignia he remembered from when Dr. Beckett had made a brief visit in their first encounter. He always made note of that sort of thing.

He gave Rodney a few moments and then straightened up. "Rodney? This uniform looks a little like yours.."

Not that Rodney looked like a Lantean any longer. He could have passed for one of Ladon's scientists out in the field, and it was perhaps only a matter of time before he showed Rodney a little of the fighting arts. Defensive, of course.

Rodney had been peering at some curl of metal, and he only turned away from it slowly. "You... you should have your men gather this, anything they can from this site. The materials could, they could..." Oh, he was _trying_ , trying hard in that stubborn resilient way. Maybe he was telling himself that the Lanteans had escaped, but perhaps lost a ship. One ship, maybe two? But that his dearest and nearest had survived.

"We'll do that. Whatever pieces we can find." He nodded to a few men who started looking around collecting up the strange alloy. "Is this someone you knew?"

He needed him to look. To see and realize. It was important for Kolya, but important for Rodney if he were ever going to be a productive member of society. 

"It..." The denial died on the tip of Rodney's tongue, and he stopped short of the body, staring at it, before he started forwards in a jerk of motion, kneeling down on the ashen ground. His fingers went for the piece of fabric, first.

"What is it?" Kolya crouch down with him. "Is that a rank mark?"

Truthfully, he didn't know what it was. Perhaps it was a designation for a doctor in their society. He hadn't seen anyone else with it.

"Flag. It's the... fuck, fuck, I can't even remember what it's called, it's the Saint Andrew's cross." Rodney clutched it in shaking fingers, and then he did something Kolya hadn't quite expected. He pushed at the body, turning it over.

There were no recognizable feature but he nearly betrayed himself when Rodney reached for something metal around the man’s neck, semi fused and melted by whatever had struck and seared away most of his upper torso.

He hoped it would be unrecognizable.

Rodney studied it, bent over the body, and then he pulled, tugged at the metal, and pieces of it broke away. Some kind of chain, but the main piece was in tact enough. Kolya leaned slightly, and-- yes. Yes, it had to have been unrecognizable. Or else he truly had picked the correct body to plant the 'flag' next to, because Rodney's mouth was open, pulled down at the edges more than it had been when Kolya had had his arm cut open.

"It is someone you know," he said injecting his voice with a form of gruff sympathy. "I am sorry Rodney. I was hoping there would be some survivors." Best not to appear too altruistic. "...if only for the technology you wielded."

It was probably the best thing that he could have said, because Rodney's expression twisted, and he jerked away. "This. This is _all_ your fault. If you bastards had have left us alone! We were your best hope, we're at least 60 years ahead of you without the ancient technology we had, and you, you greedy fucking shortsighted scavenging irradiated bastards!" Rodney had the flag and the chunk of metal clutched tight in his fingers, and then he was stumbling to his feet and running.

And ancients above, watching that man try to _run away_ was a sight. He gestured and one of his men intercepted the scientist and tackled him to the ground on the seared earth allowing him time to get there.

"Rodney... Rodney! Stop struggling. Stop, enough!" Kolya said authoritatively taking hold of him.

"Sir..." The man he'd gestured to looked a little genuinely concerned, even as he got a hold of Rodney's arms himself, trying to pin him down. He hadn't actually expected the man to kick him in the stomach, twisting and trying to fight so desperately now, where he hadn't before. "Perhaps he should be taken into custody."

"Fuck you, I'm already in custody, and this is _all_ your fault! He's dead and you should be, too!"

"He is my Allocated and I will deal with him," Kolya replied managing to get the upper hand. "Rodney... this, this is what we face every moment of every day. This is why we do everything we can to survive. There are few of us who have not lost someone as dear as you have obviously done. Do you think I am myself untouched? No. What of the Manarians who are no more? Every moment we live we are cheating death Rodney. Working for vengeance. For security, to protect our people. Understand that. We all have our own griefs, but we go on, because to do otherwise is to tell the Wraith they have the right to kill us because they are stronger.

"They _are_ stronger! They're stronger, you're just cattle to them, but we could have _fought them_ , we could have..." Rodney tried to fight him again, but a knee placed against Rodney's inner thigh kept him from kicking like that, from getting any hip or back motion going that could injure either of them. He lay there, pinned and breathing hard, mouth twisted out of shape. "Fuck you and your, your shared grief ethic. We had worse enemies back home. We've survived, and we could have won here, too!"

"What's done is done. And we can _still_ win. We will still win." Kolya said firmly. "We have to. You don't understand. The Wraith have spies. Worshippers, as human as you or I. They come luring us out with promises of more technology, or being a friendly advanced race and… Five planets Rodney, five planet in my lifetime have fallen to that ruse. We have to distrust those who are too advanced, who no one can vouch for... we have to suspect. We have to take things on our terms because the price of a mistake is this. Scorched earth and the death of everyone."

It wasn't sinking in, though. Not like he'd thought it might, because Rodney started to struggle again, twisting in the dirt enough to get one leg free to try to kick at Kolya again. The man of his who had first tackled Rodney shifted, drew his gun. "Sir. Do you need help taking him back home?"

"Take him back. Return him to my quarters until I have had chance to finish overseeing this mission. Instruct my other Allocated he is not to leave and to leave him to adjust." Kolya replied. "I have to complete this reconnaissance. Rodney, you must calm down. "

" _Why?_ What do I have to calm down for? You said it and now you've proven it to me, my people are dead -- but there's billions of us back home, and I don't care what happens to this god-forsaken galaxy! Now we know why the ancients left!" He twisted again, still struggling, and Kolya decided that perhaps it was for the best to knock him out. Just briefly.

Kolya looked at the soldier holding him and the man sucker-punched Rodney with the ease of a great deal of practice and he sighed. Looked like a stronger reaction than just losing a friend. That had been a minor miscalculation. It just meant the timetable of events was pushed up a little. 

Rodney had seen the nice side of things, now he needed to see the unpleasant so he would rush back to him with open arms.

At least it seemed like he would be amiable to the arrangement Kolya was guiding him towards. He glanced at the soldier, then nodded slightly while he stepped back from Rodney's limp body. It was just as well that things were moving at a faster clip.

* * *

There was a forty pound weight sitting on top of his temple -- and if there wasn't, Rodney was willing to believe there was, because his head was pounding worse than that time he'd tried to pick up a Russian officer's wife.

She hadn't even been that hot, so it wasn't something he considered 'worth it' immediately after the man's fist had slammed into his head. That was the feeling, the fist to head feeling that left him groggy and reeling. He wasn't even on the ground, where he expected to be. Or a bed.

Because even with his head reeling, Rodney had a pretty good idea that he was tied up in a chair.

That was enough to send panicking surges of adrenalin along to his limbs. Fuck, as if his day hadn't been bad enough. As if the last vestiges of hope had flown away when he picked up that torn and burnt St Andrew's cross. He didn't remember there being anyone else Scottish on Atlantis and now...

Now Carson was dead. They hadn't stood a chance against a full wraith attack and oh god, now he'd ruined everything by trying to escape blindly.

And now it seemed he'd descended into his own nightmare. A dark room, the heat of spotlights on him and ropes tying him to the chair.

"So you are finally awake Dr. McKay..." an unfamiliar voice said.

Not Kolya then. What was going on? Kolya was supposed to be responsible for his care and provisions or whatever they called it, so if anyone was going to tie him to a chair and possibly set him on fire, it should have been Kolya.

Seeing as Rodney had a groggy recollection of trying to kick the man in the balls.

"Nnh, where am I?"

"Somewhere that your protector cannot find you," the voice said from the darkness. "Here's the thing Rodney... There are certain elements of the Genii command who believe you are not fulfilling your potential. They feel rather strongly I'm afraid that Commander Kolya is far too lenient with you and that he allows his... well, let's just say infatuation with you to allow you to run riot and not deliver the information the Genii most need."

There was a pause and a sound as if the man had stood and was walking closer. "I will admit it took some time for the Commander to make a slip, but there are still some men in his command who are more loyal to the state than the man personally. He really shouldn't've delegated the task of bringing you home. And by the time he realizes, well, let’s just say even Commander Kolya does not know _all_ the resources of the Genii High Council."

Rodney tipped his head, trying to look towards the sound. He couldn't see anything, but that just meant they were intelligent and had him blind-folded. Because if he saw them, he'd... he'd what? He wouldn't be amiable to whoever it was, that was sure, and the fact that he wasn't dead meant something.

It meant that they at least knew how important his brain was to them.

"And you're going to... what?"

"I'm going to encourage you to tell me some of those wonderfully advanced things that you know about but are deliberately keeping from our people." The voice sounded closer. "You see Dr. McKay... Rodney, we need answers. If they have culled Manara it is possible that some Manarian in a cocoon could give them information that might lead to the Genii. We'll need to know how to defeat the Wraith."

"I'm not deliberately keeping anything from you. These advances have to be taken in steps -- I was starting with shielding for your generators, and working with your scientists on a functional bomb, since you have the grade of Uranium, it just needs to be separated from the 238, which I can't help you do if I'm tied to a _chair_!"

There was a silence and then the rather terrifying sensation of something that felt like a long thin cane under his chin, effectively shutting him up. "You talk a lot, but little of it is useful. We want more than basics. We want a means to destroy the Wraith and we are agreed that you have been waiting for a rescue and minimizing information. Is this true Rodney?"

"I was waiting for my, my mission to come, but they're, they're not going to." Something that he hadn't even fully processed. Rodney didn't know what to do with the idea, the reality that they would be written off as one of the many failed Stargate related missions and that Carson was dead. Carson was dead. "But I'm not 'minimizing' information. I don't want to die any more than you do. I'm trying to give you a bomb that functions, and I can step your development up to complete in a few weeks. I, I can recreate the generators we had, I designed them myself."

"See, isn't it nice when we learn to communicate?" the stranger murmured. "And are the generators weapons? How do we get them to the Wraith?"

"What? No, no, they're power-sources. I can make them compatible with ancient systems, any ancient weaponry. It's portable power." The word 'idiot' hovered on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't say it. The edge of the cane was still stuck up against the underside of his chin. "You want weapons, I can do those. I though you wanted the Nuclear bomb."

"If the...nuclear bomb will not kill the Wraith then it is pointless," the man replied and removed the cane. "The ancient devices do not work. You are lying!" The cane swished and cracked down sharply across his legs.

"Fuck!" He was naked and tied to a chair apparently, because that had cracked across his skin hard, burning like he'd been cut. The swish of it cutting through the air no real warning for how much it would _hurt_. "You need a gene, it's genetically linked, and most of the mission _had_ the gene you stup--"

"A gene... so only those born to it can use the technology? How...convenient." The man was moving again. "That hurts doesn't it? I'm afraid if the answer don't start sounding a little less ridiculous you are going to hurt a lot. So who can use the ancestors technology?"

"Anyone with the Ancient gene -- we called it ATA. They interbred with humans on my planet, so it's rare. They took a whole bunch of one of a kind rare people and sent us on this god-forsaken mission and now they're all dead." He almost mentioned the Retrovirus, but they'd demand he create it and Rodney knew he was no medical doctor. He didn't know the first step to doing that.

That didn't seem to satisfy the man because the cane snapped against his chest this time sharp and vicious. "One of the kind people who are all dead and cannot prove you a liar!"

Rodney hunched forwards into the ropes, breathing hard from that new cutting sting. "Ow, fuck, no, no, give me a piece of the technology! Ask Bates or Elizabeth!"

"Give _you_ a piece of potentially dangerous technology?" The man sounded amazed. "Do I _sound_ like I'm an idiot? Do I? Is that what this is about? You thinking you can be superior, you can fool all of us? Is that it Rodney?"

That last was punctuated by another hit across the torso. "I think you need a lesson. A lesson in humility."

"I can prove I'm not lying -- I have the gene, you just need to listen." He could imagine what the lesson in humility might be. It could be high school all over again, with bullies who wanted him dead once they'd learned he could make such a scene that they'd get into trouble for just touching him.

"And still you are trying to dictate to me," the man said. "Still you have the arrogance to make demands. I can make time to attend to some attitude adjustment."

Fuck, that didn't sound good. And it didn't feel good when the sharp crack of the cane was replaced by the methodical bruising punches of someone interested only in administering a beating for no other reason than they wanted to.

That they could, that they thought it might make a difference in the way he was. There was nothing he'd be able to do or say that could stop it, not when he was being punched for the sake of, of what? Taking him down a notch. At least when Kolya had had his arm cut open, there had been a point to it.

This was just... this was like bullying in an extreme form. Pushing him down to get into control. The blows winded him, hurt him, made him want to throw up. It was an excuse. An excuse to get the upper hand.

They probably wanted him meek and placid in the labs, a church-mouse of an allocation, and Kolya hadn't cared much as long as Rodney didn't mouth off too much or talk with his mouth full. It was all an excuse to break him down, and Rodney knew that cognitively, focused on it as he tried to not tense up, not make it worse, not throw up when he wouldn't even be able to lean properly or see what was going on.

By the time the blows finished, he felt a stinging numbness all over where he had been hit. A taste of blood in his mouth. 

There was a long pause. "I think you are too used to getting your own way, Rodney."

"I was the second highest civilian on the mission. Does it _surprise_ you that I'm used to getting my way?" And they had the highest civilian on the mission, and she was probably fine. She was probably adjusting because Elizabeth was a diplomat, and she could fake it better than Rodney could, because apparently everyone had decided that he was waiting for rescue.

"Perhaps not. But you're not on that mission any more are you? Because you failed. You destroyed the City of the Ancestors," the man replied. "And that's what put all of them on Manara. There's the logic Rodney."

"We failed to save it. Because _you_ invaded us," Rodney reiterated, leaning against the ropes. He hurt. Everything hurt, but it was numb, a burning numbness.

"No. Because you didn't have the right solution. You didn't save the city. It was flawed. The shielding was breeched and that wasn't down to us. That was down to the storm and your plan. Twenty men of the Genii paid for you mistake. Then all those who you had sent on ahead of you."

"It was down to the city being more than 10,000 years old, and structurally weak to begin with." He closed his eyes behind the blindfold, sucking in unsteady breaths. Something hurt below his ribs, a sharp pain.

"So you don't make mistakes. You never screw up. Always someone else's fault isn't it, McKay? Hmm? I thought you were the genius. I thought you could work out anything. But your friends are dead, the city is lost and you're alive. Not a very good track record."

It was hard to not react to that. Rodney just breathed, biting his bottom lip to keep silent. Just baiting. Things had gone wrong, it wasn't his fault. Even if Carson was dead. It wasn't his fault. He'd tried and he'd been stopped and he... And Carson was dead.

Nothing could change that. Did it really matter how much at fault anyone was when Carson was dead? The first person to ever really care for him. Love him, okay yes, love him. Carson had said it often enough and maybe he hadn't said it back as much as he should. But Carson knew. Had known.

Had he been waiting for him to turn up to save him? To stop the Wraith?

Maybe. Maybe Rodney should have just damned Elizabeth and Bates, and made a run for it. He could have -- he could have gotten through the lock, gotten out, used the gate to get to Manara, he'd just been waiting. He shouldn't have waited. He should have -- because it was two lives to over a hundred lives, more with the Athosians. And maybe he could have been of use. And maybe Carson wouldn't be dead.

And that hurt more than any of this. Than the beating, the pain. All of that. It hurt that he had somehow let Carson die because he could've done something.

"Was one of them someone you cared for. Someone you loved?"

"Doesn't matter." He was dead. He was dead, and Rodney couldn't even remember the last time that they'd been together. Not sharply, and there had been no poignant goodbyes or observations. Carson had said something about Rodney needing to get his socks washed more often, and had gotten out of bed to shower because Biro had called him in for an emergency. Rodney wasn't even sure whose socks Carson had meant, and then Lorne and Teyla had seen the storm, and everything had moved fast fast fast.

He wanted to be able to say something to him. He wanted... he wanted Carson. He wanted him and it was like a hole ripped in him more painful than physical pain. 

"Not someone you loved very much then."

He was still leaning into the ropes, still breathing hard, struggling to keep the chair from tipping forwards, trying to stay sitting up. "Dead is dead."

"Yes. It is, isn't it?" The man seemed to be walking away. "I'm going to give you time to think about this Rodney. Contemplation is good for you and perhaps our next chat will be a little more forth coming. Guards."

There were rough hands working at his bindings then, holding on to him.

Fine. Fine, anything to get him out of that chair, anything to jar him out of his thoughts. He was sure they'd 'talk' again, but Rodney didn't know what good it would do. He didn't think it would do any good at all. 

Carson was dead. Carson was dead and he could have done something, and he hadn't, and nothing could fix that.

He was half lifted, half dragged away, still blindfolded. He barely heard the final words of, "and clean him up," but the Guards obviously did. Because after they almost literally hurled him into a cell that was very cold and damp, and he had hardly any time to pull off the blindfold, they were literally turning a freezing cold hose on him "to clean him off."

It was for humiliation's sake, but it didn't help. All he could see was the two men holding the hose, and the torrent of water that knocked him off of his precarious balance of getting up. And before Rodney could get off of his ass, the door closed, leaving him alone in his empty cell.

He was cold, he hurt, he was hungry as hell and he had a feeling that it wasn't going to get any better. But what choice did he have? There wasn't anyone going to come for him now.

He was stuck with himself. Elizabeth was in no position to help him, Bates...

Bates. That stupid grunt.

Rodney shifted, and finally dragged himself to a dry corner of the cell. It would have to do.

* * *

Things should have progressed.

There should have been some change, some end goal, but there didn't seem to be, and Rodney didn't know what to do. And even if he had known, it wouldn't have mattered. He hadn't eaten in... too long. Too long. Hunger was gnawing at his guts, twisting him inside and out, leaving him wracked with shaking and chills almost more than the water treatments had. There was no warmth, no respite, hardly any food, and they kept asking things, demanding the impossible of him when he had could hardly scrape two thoughts together.

It seemed so pointless. Sometimes they would take him off and tie him up. Then no one would come and he would be left there for hours. They'd shaved off his damn hair... why? There was no point to it and it had fuzzed back a little...which probably meant something about time but he wasn't sure what.

They'd put him in a cell where random areas seem to have electric charges at random times. There was no pattern that he could work out with the fog in his brain.

He was pretty sure that there were drugs in the food they forced down him. That was... ridiculous. They let him nearly pass out every damn fucking time and then they came in and forced it down his throat. He was having problems even remembering his name, let alone anything else. He had no idea how long he'd been here. Too long. Long enough to know he was lost to everything. There was noise in the corridor. More pain, more torture no doubt. It'd all become one mass of... unbearable sensation.

Sensation beyond his control, beyond him period. He was always cold, always hungry now, and his head hurt too much to think, left him wishing for knives or something that had a point. And there was no way to keep a hold of himself. He'd tried writing on the walls, but his fingers were cold and raw, and he couldn't. There was no dirt, and he didn't think he had nails left to scrape anything with. He just had theories and vague thoughts spiraling in the empty space of the cell, and no-where to put it all.

Rapid footsteps coming his way and it was easier to just lie there and shiver with his eyes closed. A few more moments' peace.

"Are you sure?" The man. The faceless man he had never seen.

"Yes. He's closing in on this location. I don't know how he found out. We must have a leak..."

"Then we'll have to move him again. He is persistent."

"Yes sir. Renowned for it. The Commander does not give up."

"Put him in a sensory cocoon and transport him. If we are lucky, we'll get him off world."

"Sir."

Persistent? Carson leapt into Rodney's mind, except Carson... yes, Carson was dead. He remembered a dirty, ruined flat piece of material in his fingers, and Carson's melted dog-tags. It had to have been fast. Right to the face, fast and, and quick, and he hadn't suffered, no. No, Rodney held onto that. At least Carson hadn't suffered, hadn't been drained by the wraith.

There was the sounds of the cell door sliding open, and someone entering. Hands on him, lifting him because he couldn't stand. Jostling him as they moved away, and down corridors where other prisoners screamed or whimpered depending on how long they had been there.

It was a different place, a different room. Glimpses of something that looked like a coffin even as he was lifted up and into it.

Soft... Soft on his skin, not cold and hard. Busy hands straightening his limbs, rubbing a numbing agent on him.

That was okay. That was, it was soft, and he was cold and hungry and he'd still be hungry, but at least he might be able to warm up. He didn't have the strength to fight back, not anymore. Maybe he could sleep a little. Maybe they could just close the lid and slide him away into the dirt. He'd run out of air, but he might not wake up for it and that would be all right.

Right now, that was something to aim for.

There was something a bit like goggles over his eyes, something like headphones over his ears. That might've been a catheter put in.. shit...yes it was. And there were straps but they were all soft and like sinking. He was settled in place and a sluggish inability to move crept over him but he was still thinking. He could open his eyes but it was just a sort of blank in front of him. White noise in his ears and just warmth and nothingness which was a relief.

For a little while.

Rodney slept. He was sure he slept, except that passage of time thing eluded him again, because when he opened his eyes, it was nothingness, and all he could hear was quiet quite noise. He'd probably slept for a long time, actually, because he felt a little better even if he was still hungry.

He wasn't overly hungry, more empty and he discovered he couldn't move. At all. Even his fingers felt like they were vanishing away in the lack of sensation.

After a while he started to see things marching across his vision in his head. Hear voices. Oh god, he could see Carson. He could hear him. 

_Rodney? Rodney...it's going to be okay, love...rest now._

He wanted to rest. He wanted to be with Carson, to be there, wherever Carson was talking to him from. And he could hear him clearly, could hear the way his voice always sounded in Rodney's quarters, or in the infirmary when they came back from a mission.

He could feel the way he touched him, how he would stroke his hand when the nurses weren't there, kiss him softly and then smile.

Only his face was... melting away. Literally burning and melting in front of him, hand clutching at him desperately, mellow voice turning to a scream over and over.

And Rodney couldn't do anything, couldn't move, couldn't even try to put it out. All he could do was watch, watch wide-eyed as Carson died standing, screaming, and crumpled into the ash, and then everything was ash and dancing specks of grey and black and white fuzz in front of his vision.

It wasn't just once. It happened over and over. Sometimes, he was falling, plummeting from great heights, his heart pounding. He was sure he was screaming but he couldn't hear it. He couldn't feel himself, he felt like he was melting away and his mind was melting with it. It was being trapped in a wormhole, except 38 minutes went on forever and he wasn't coming out the other side, because the Gateship was stuck in the gate with the drive pods not retracting and he was on the wrong side of it but he could see everything and Calvin back there trying to work out what to do when Rodney knew what to do, he knew how to retract them, they just needed momentum forwards and he could hear Carson's voice on the radio telling him that Rodney should be sorry for what he did, that he'd tried hard but not hard enough and now look what had happened, everything was gone and the city was dead and he was dead and Lorne was dead and Rodney was dead but he didn't deserve to come out the other side, which was why no-one had come for him or would come for him not even one Gateship worth of people not ever…

Equations blurred in an out, tantalizing thoughts as tenuous as dreams. Soaring thoughts that disconnected from him and roamed around using him as fuel, burning him up as well. Prime numbers rattled onwards to infinity like the breath of his subconscious.  
He couldn't remember his name.

It didn't matter. He was floating off in the silence and the roaring of blood and wraith beams, and he was the specks and swirls of color that drifted in front of his eyes, marching static ants that bled into equations that bled back into faces and he knew their names because they were important, they were tangible beings, they had been of a corporeal form and whether they were still or not didn't matter because they were still. They were.

He didn't need a name.

He was clearly insane. No one insane really needed a name. There wasn't any point and there wasn't anyone to identify himself to, because they already knew him, knew him better than he knew himself because they were willing to blame him and he hadn't blamed himself, no, he ignored that part of him where they didn't, Carson didn't and Elizabeth and Lorne and they were all gone, but not, because they were there with him in the black.

He could've been in here years. Timeless, the only thing trying to mark time being the erratic beat of his heart. He didn't know when he slept or even if he did, only there was a seamless state of being between dreaming and waking. He could speak, hear, feel, his thoughts disconnected, his memories scrambled and ..

The sensation of someone touching him, actually touching him, was like fire across desperate nerves. Touching his face, touching his skin and then moving something from his ears and a voice, like the voice of some sort of God.

"Rodney? Rodney... Can you hear me?"

He heard a whimper, a rough-voiced sound that cut through the base of his neck and curled down his spine, but it couldn't have been him. He didn't sound like that, he didn't even _have_ a sound to make, no voice, nothing but whitenoise and greynoise in front of his eyes, and that was still there, but the touch, the touch burned.

"Ancestors Above... What've they done to you?!" The rough voice was filling everything. "Can you see me? No? I've got you. It's Acastus... Kolya, yes?"

Someone was lifting him then, holding him and there was hot and cold, air on his skin and sound. And that was like water in a parching desert.

"Sir! They are coming..."

"Let them come!" Noises, sounds. Running footsteps, muttered oaths. The deafening sound of gunfire and being carried running. Had to be a hallucination but his mind was thirsty for it. It was _new_ , and the texture was different than the dark dark where he'd split apart and drifted off, where there was nothing but thought-pictures and numb, that even hot and cold made him ache now.

The sounds, the oaths, they jumbled together, twisted up and he lost track of them if he'd ever even had track of them. Kolya. That was another name he remembered the texture of, gritty and full of iron.

It was more than he remembered of himself. He could smell iron, metallic scent close to him, a curse from the one holding him and jolting and movement and some part of him was trying to work out what was happening. 

Escape... maybe. Cognitively, he knew that was good, that would be good, because things hadn't always been quiet and dark and cut free of all his tethers and just left with his ghosts, no. He'd been cold and hurting and now everything hurt all over again, every movement sharp, the sounds too loud, his skull throbbing because his brains were coming back, moving back into his head, maybe, because he hadn't been corporeal for a long time.

Maybe it had been like ascension but... descending into darkness instead of ascending into light. There was the sound of an engine, then doors closing then moving at speed.

"You have him?" He recognized that voice too. Bates... What was he doing here?

"I have him. Just drive. Your Commander is in the back in case we need cover fire."

"Right." There was a pause. "You're bleeding."

"Just a nick. Give me your jacket... I need to keep him warm. They had him in a sensory deprivation cocoon."

"Looks like the communists weren't the only one to make those."

They were words that sparked half-thoughts in his head, little bits of mental sensation that welled up, that meant things he wasn't ready to reconnect to just yet. Bates was talking, Bates was okay?

He was being moved again, jostled, and everything ached and cut sharp edges into him, until there was the rough-warm feeling of fabric. "I'm taking you home Rodney. I can get a doctor who is loyal to me. A good doctor... You'll be fine. Have a chance to recover." And he was wrapped in something warm, something clean and someone was holding him and fingers were stroking absently at his hair.

"We're coming up to the Stargate... sir," Bates said and he felt whatever was holding him twist.

"Idos! Be ready to dial! It'll be close…"

"Got it!"

Too many voices, too many different things going on. He wasn't even sure it was real. He'd felt sensation before, his skin crawling over his bones and his muscles twisting, knotting up, sliding out from under his skin and slipping away, until there was nothing left but numb, but this was different. It was more intense, enough to make him want to struggle to get away, except he didn't have the energy for that, to do more than twist a little, motions hard to control.

"Easy Rodney, Easy," Kolya's grip tightened. "We will be going through the Stargate now... then we will be fine. They will not take you away again."

"Dialed up! " came a shout and there was a sensation of speed and then a rush and then they were somewhere else.

"Will they follow us?" Bates asked anxiously.

"Not on the homeworld. People will see us. Chief Cowen won't risk the publicity," Kolya was saying.

"I don't get it. He's a slave. We're all slaves to you."

"No, you are Allocated. He has... he had broken my honor by harming an allocated in my protection," Kolya replied firmly. "That would cause an outcry. There are things that you do not do. When you became allocated you became of the Genii. What he is done is like taking one of our own people... because now you are."

"Oh." It seemed Bates was thinking hard even as he drove.

The tight grip grounded him, pulled him in towards the newness of reality, or what was passing for it. But it was all sensation and sound, and no comforting sight, no seeing anything that weren't shapes and colors dancing in the bright black, vague thoughts scrawled visibly on the inside of his brain. Cowen? Cowen was a stuffed shirt kind of man, jacket collar cutting up into his jowls, but why would he take Rodney where he'd been?

"Sometimes things have to be done for survivals sake but this..." Kolya sounded brittle and hard. "This is proof only that such people should not survive."

"Is he going to be okay?" Bates asked.

"I hope so. He does not appear to be able to see me. I hope this is a side effect of the treatment, not that they have been using Varstemerol."

"Var...what?"

"It's a drug designed to make people more...suggestible. Docile. Unfortunately it can have bad side effects if used for a long time. And Rodney has been with them for a long time."

"It's the medicinal equivalent of kicking someone in the head. There is at least an honesty to fists." Not Bates, not Kolya, so that was Idos. He laid there, gripped tight, and tried to place voices to names and names to... names to memory-thought, but he was burning from the skinside in and his skull was throbbing from the noise, the motion, everything.

"He has seen plenty of that as well," Kolya replied. "It will take him a while to recover. He has had little food save through a drip. Or liquid. Perhaps that is why he not vocal...his mouth must be dry as a bone."

There was a sloshing sound and then something brought to his lips. "Rodney, this is water. Do you want a drink? Yes?"

"Uhn." Uhn-huh, yes, he wanted a drink and there was a flat round edge pressed to his mouth that could have been a cane for all he knew, that cane that he was sure he had marks from still, somewhere over where his skin hadn't crawled off. But there was wet and it was sliding into his mouth and he choked before he remembered what swallowing was like.

He'd never tasted anything so good. The first mouthful soaked into his parched mouth and tongue, the second swallow made it down his throat and that was bliss. He wanted to drink and drink...

"Easy...easy...you'll be sick if you have too much."

He swallowed again, and he wanted more, tried to lean up and follow the water when it was pulled away. "Nn." His throat still felt dry, ached on the inside like his skin ached on the outside because feeling again _hurt_ , cut right to the bone.

"Not long now Rodney," Kolya practically whispered. "We're going home. I'll get you something to eat, just a little something so you won't be ill. You want to go home right?"

Home. Yes, he wanted to be home, full of conflicting feelings and a sense of awe, but he wasn't sure where it was anymore. Memory seemed to say it was under the ocean, or oceans away, or spaces away, taken away from him by the peculiarities of wormhole physics. "Uhuh."

"Good..." He could hear the smile even as they came to a halt. 

"Vartresk sir."

"Idos, I'll need your man to guard me home. I want you to fetch Dr. Shradon...you know who I mean. "

"Yes sir," Once again the sounds of doors opening and closing and movement again. "Bates, guard the Commander and Dr. McKay."

"Sir." Bates seemed a lot more agreeable now for some reason.

"I'm going in the private entrance... you know the code Idos? Bring him in that way." And they were moving again.

He lost track of the movements. He was being jostled, and he knew that, and he was still held tight, and he wanted more of that water. It couldn't have been _normal_ water -- it was so cold that it made his teeth sting and made him feel he had teeth again and tasted crisp, like, like something he'd tasted before.

Maybe he drifted off during that next part because the next thing he was aware of was another door opening and a faintly familiar smell, and voices.

"Acastus... oh, ancestors." 

"Jadon, I need you to prepare a robe for Rodney… and myself. I will take him into the shower. The doctors will want his body clean." He heard a feminine gasp, but Kolya kept talking. "Gisera, prepare some soup. And a little soft bread if we have some. Is Sora and her Allocated here"

"They have been creating the distraction and will be returning shortly sir."

There was a curt 'good', that he half-heard, but at least the voices were familiar to him. He knew who they were, placed another voice to another name-face, and wished he could see, wished he could be sure that it wasn't still that thick dream-state where everything had seemed very real, too. Real as real, real as the sound of boots up the stairs.

"Rodney, I'm taking you into the shower. I'll have to put you down a moment, but then we'll get you something to wear and something to eat and the doctor will be here and then you can sleep."

The voice didn't seem as rough anymore. He could hear the sound of running water.

Shower, a shower sounded good. He'd always liked running water, running, hot water, and soap, yes. Showers, long hot showers were amazing, something he hadn't remembered missing until he could hear the water, smell the steam starting to gather.

The material covering him was removed and he could feel skin on skin but that didn't seem wrong as he was lifted again. "You know, in some ways a bath would be easier but..." Kolya chuckled a little and then there was hot water pouring over him, and the scent of a gentle soap smoothing over his skin. 

But his legs were buckling under him, and he was standing on by the grace of the arm that was tight against his chest. Just like Elizabeth had been dragged through the gate, but he was only fighting gravity this time, and Kolya was helping.

Names and memories were starting to link up again, not completely as they had been, not as definite but...

It felt good to be clean. To feel touch, however brisk and business like. He felt like he was re-hydrating through his skin. Even as Kolya was humming under his breath as he sponged him off, cuts stinging with the soap and unaccustomed touch.

"Huh." Rodney tilted his head back, let the nape of his neck press back against the curve of, of something. Of a shoulder? He got water in his mouth, and it _felt_ like it was in his eyes, the faint sting of water and soap.

So they were open. Only he couldn't see.

"That's better. I can actually see you under all that grime," Kolya murmured. A hand was deftly massaging in his scalp over the still short hair. Cleaned quickly at the least. "Can you talk Rodney? Do you know who I am?"

"Acastus Kolya." His voice sounded strange, glassy. The echoes were all wrong to his ears. "Hurt my voice."

"That's good... Rodney, " and the voice was warm and approving. "That's good... thank the ancestors, I thought they'd destroyed your mind."

No, he still had a mind. It was coming back to him and that was why his head was still killing him. He stayed like he was, leaning back, supported, trying to ignore the sharp pins and needles in his skin. "No."

"Does anything hurt a great deal?" Kolya asked as a rough towel scrubbed the grime from his skin.

"Legs?" Clean skin felt different, felt split open and peeled raw, and good at the same time.

"We'll get the doctor to look at you," Kolya replied. "Rodney, did they... did they abuse you sexually?"

Did they? No, no, he didn't think they had, not as the thoughts of the idea popped up into his mind. Cocks and asses and mouths and Carson, and Jadon and Kolya in the study. "No?"

"Good, you were spared that, at least." Kolya seemed relieved. "We are clean enough. Let me just..."

The water stopped running and he was lifted with some difficulty again. "Towels, where... ah good, Jadon has put them out for us. Here." Something warm was wrapped around him. "I'll just quickly dry myself."

And he was left, teetering on shaky legs, except he wasn't because there was still an arm around his waist holding him up still. The touch was good, kept him grounded and from sliding adrift in the dark. 

His eyes stung, and he could feel water on his cheeks. "I can't see."

"I think that they gave you drugs Rodney," Kolya replied. "Perhaps the doctor can give you something." He sounded doubtful though.

Kolya's grounding presence went faint for a moment, and Rodney concentrated on standing, concentrated on breathing, and the sharpness of his knowledge of both. He could feel, he could feel every teetering balancing twitch of muscles. "I, I need to see."

"Rodney, I swear, if it is in my power I will find a way for you to be able to see," Kolya promised seriously and his hand was there again, on his shoulder. "This I promise."

He promised. He promised... a lot, and he'd kept them all and Rodney had gotten himself in that position, had tried to leave the protection of those promises. "I promise..." His voice sounded funny, not nearly as strong as Kolya's. "To not run again."

"Shh, you were distraught. I was the one in error, to trust another with my responsibility Rodney. Dr. Weir has explained to me why you ran. I am truly sorry Rodney."

Fingers on his shoulder, and another sliding around his waist. Holding him, keeping him upright. "He... he meant... " Everything of Rodney's quiet private life. He was the burning face in the dark.

"He meant everything to you... if I'd known I would never have made you go," Kolya said, a far cry from the gruff Commander. "I know what it is to lose that person."

His voice slipped quiet, mellow, dinner conversation voice when Gisera had burned her hand on a pot. "He, the flag. It was Scottish. He was the only Scottish member of the mission, so it..." Was without a doubt him, and there was no way to deny it even in the thick numb darkness.

"The flag? Oh, the insignia," Kolya held him a little closer. "I understand. I'm sorry Rodney, I really am. If I had known you had loved him and lost him...then..." He exhaled. "Perhaps we could've found a way together to bring him to us, or all of them. We did not know the Manarians would be attacked with such force. It is not something we have ever known before. I suspect it is why they took you, looking for easy answers to calm the panic."

"No such thing." There were no easy answers. Fixing anything took work, and development and starting with the basics and starting from there. Like bombs and power.

"Perhaps not. I was hoping you would adjust in time," Kolya murmured and continued to dry him off. "There now. I am hoping that feels some better."

"Everything is... sharp." Too intense, too in his forefront mind, too everything, but it was good, too. He was tired and his stomach felt like a thick knot, and his legs were shivering, but it was an improvement.

"You will feel better once you have eaten and rested. More yourself." Kolya said helping him put on a robe. "Can you walk, or do you need assistance?"

"Help."

He was barely standing, and his toes were shaking with the effort to stay balanced, and where he would have said 'no' before, he said 'yes' now. He couldn't even see where he was going.

"Then I will carry you," Kolya replied and that might not have been exactly what he meant but it was still a comfort to be lifted and carried.

"Gisera? Do you have the soup?"

"Yes sir, at the table. For you and for Rodney."

"Do you feel up to eating?" Kolya asked.

"I don't know." Yes, no, but why not? Why not? It would be another new sharp feeling and his throat was still dry. Soup was liquid, warm and soothing and he had memories of soup as a comfort food. He wanted comfort. "Yes."

"We'll try it. Here, you will sit with me. I do not want to add burn to your list of injuries," he said and under other circumstances it might seem strange, or humiliating but now it was just... comfort. "How are your hands? A little shaky? Then we shall help you."

A spoon was lifted to his mouth and the smell alone was enough to make him ravenous.

Metal pressed to his lips, and he still remembered the muscle memory of sipping, of tasting. It was that strange gamey meat sausage they ate, spiced and flavored, with tiny pieces of grain in it. It reminded him of something Italian, something that slipped his mind, but it was familiar and delicious.

"That's it," Kolya murmured. "Jadon, do you have the bread?"

"Here, Acastus... Is there anything I can do?" The younger man's voice sounded anxious.

"Break it into small pieces and drop a few in."

"It's a meal in itself, that soup," Gisera added.

"And it looks like the last time he had a meal was a couple of weeks ago." Jadon's voice was sharp in pointing that out, and there was relative silence for a moment before the spoon was pressed against his mouth again.

It really did taste amazing, and he concentrated to chew a little better. "'s good."

"Thank you," Gisera replied. "I'm glad someone appreciates my cooking."

"It's not that we don't appreciate it, but variety would be nice," Jadon replied in a teasing tone. To the background of their banter, he was fed the soup carefully and steadily.

"Good. I'm sure that soon you will be strong enough to feed yourself," Kolya murmured. "But your hands are still unsteady so it is best you are helped. Idos will be here with the doctor any moment. But I know he would want you cleaned up and with some food."

The doctor or Idos, but Rodney didn't ask it. He leaned into Kolya. The spoon had stopped pressing against his lips, and that was all right because he felt... full? Or sick, because there was some vague memory wrapped up in the sated sensation, but he wasn't sure what it was anymore. It didn't matter, because coming back to himself hurt more, ached more than anything, and he was still caught up in the dark with shapes and swirls and vagueness in the black that he could see.

"Enough? Yes?" Kolya settled him back. "Rodney, do you wish to sleep in your own room? Or would you prefer to be in with one of us? I'm just a little worried about you being alone."

"I..." Rodney stayed where Kolya settled him, leaned back against him. "How long has it been?" His throat hurt the more he talked, and he wasn't sure what to answer to that question. It felt like he was alone right then, if he couldn't hear them, couldn't feel Kolya.

"Since we went to Marana? A month." Kolya said.

"We've spent a lot of time trying to track you down. Acastus has been hunting high and low but they had you on a secure facility off world," Jadon said. "You can sleep in with me if you want. Or with Acastus... I can make up a bed if you want?"

He didn't know. Rodney hadn't had choices, options, or that much interaction and thought pushed at him in the last month, and he didn't know how to answer that, so he just hunched his shoulders and stayed where he was. "Don't know."

"Then you will stay with me," Kolya replied. "Jadon, would you make up a bed in there please? I'm sure that Rodney will need rest the moment the Doctor is finished treating him."

"Of course Acastus, I'll do that now."

In between him going, there was the chime of the door and Kolya took that moment to settle them both on the couch as Gisera answered.

"Sir, Idos and his allocated and the doctor."

"Good... good, he's in here doctor."

Everything was sound and touch, sound and touch. He could hear the Doctor suck in a breath, and he could hear Kolya exhale, quietly, controlled, and he could feel the shift that pressed him to sit up a little more before trying to hold as still as he could manage.

"I assume he didn't look like this when he left your care," the Doctor noted wryly. Rodney didn't feel much like appreciating a dry sense of humor just then.

"No. He did not. He has lost considerable weight. There is evidence that he had been... tortured and when I found him he had been in a sensory deprivation cocoon for an unknown period of time. Rodney appears to not be able to see either."

"Hmm... It might be varstemerol, it might be a reaction from an extended period of deprivation. Let's take a look at you Rodney, see if you need patching up, or stitches. You've cleaned him up, I take it."

"Yes. In the shower. He has eaten a little soup."

"Good, good." There were different hands on him then, looking over him. He went with it, didn't fight, didn't try to move and risk muscle memory failing him and going strange, because he still felt shaky and weak and tingling and burning.

He tried to look in the direction of the man's voice, but the background of nothing and nothing didn't change. It should have been just like sound -- too much, too sharp, not nothing at all.

"Yes, I see what you mean about the injuries. Let's get those cleaned up and dressed so they are not infected," the doctor said. "No broken fingers or arm...possibly fractures in the ribs. This might sting a little." 

And there was the smell of antiseptic and that triggered a bloom of memories of Carson, the scent of the infirmary clinging to him. He always smelled like antiseptic, always, except after he took a shower. Even in the field, because if Carson was with them there was some kind of need for a doctor or another gene carrier, and if it was quick, get another gene carrier, Carson was probably pulled straight from the lab, and...

And it did sting, except Rodney wasn't sure whether the pain or the memories were worse.

It took time, but the doctor seemed finally satisfied his injuries were clean and dressed. "Good. I'll leave some of the antiseptic here. Clean his cuts daily. Now let's have a look at your eyes Rodney."

For all he knew he could be doing _anything_.

"Can you see anything? At all?" 

He could be absolutely naked and waving his penis in front of Rodney's face, and he wouldn't know. "Nothing."

There were fingers around his eyes and he could feel the man peering close. "Hmm... There's no pupil reaction to the light. That is not the best of signs."

"Surely, it is too soon to tell, Doctor," Kolya was saying.

"Well, we'll see if anything comes back over the next few days. But I want him to have plenty of rest, and a lot of fluids. Keep him on semi-solids for another couple of days then we'll try some ordinary food."

And it seemed like that was that, so Rodney stayed where he was. Leaned up against Kolya, not really sure if he was dressed or not except for the soft scrape of fabric against his skin. It was a lot like being... like being something, recovering from some childhood illness, all over again.

"Thank you doctor," Kolya replied. "I would appreciate it if you would look at my arm as well. I did not escape completely unscathed."

"Of course." There was a pause. "A bullet crease. Looks like it has cauterized itself...but I will clean and stitch it. Hold still."

While the doctor was busy, Kolya's hand was absently draped around him, adding to a feeling of security.

He could smell antiseptics and hear Kolya's breathing, quickening and then falling under control again, on and off and on and off, and Rodney let himself drift or sleep. Or whatever it was he did and had been doing, but without the faces and the images and curling thoughts of equations.

* * *

He was very still.

It was the first thing that struck her when she walked into the room -- that Rodney was very still. His eyes were half-open, as if he didn't know they were open, perhaps, and he was sitting up in bed but it didn't quite seem like he'd done that himself. It looked to her as if he'd been positioned that way, because there were pillows propping him up, and bedding wrapped around him, and if it weren't for his fingers clutching in the fabric, she wouldn't have even been sure he was awake.

Rodney looked nothing like the Rodney McKay she had known. His hair had been hacked short, and the flesh under his chin, that filled out his face, was gone, making his chin too-prominent, his heavy brow-line and frowning mouth much more so.

Sora had warned her it was likely to be the case, that they were lucky to get him back even reasonably intact or able to function. When she had ranted and railed at the barbarous way he had been treated and condemned all Genii because of it, Sora had merely asked if sometimes the Lantean government had been known to do questionable things.

And she had to agree.

"Hello, Rodney. It's good to have you back."

His head jerked a little, and twisted, turning to look towards her. She was fairly sure it wasn't his room -- it wasn't what she remembered from her one visit, and it was larger, more full of things that she did not particularly want to explore. "Elizabeth?"

"Yes, it's me, Rodney. I've been so worried about you," she said as she walked over and sat next to him. "Sora is visiting. I've been... so worried. I really thought we would never see you again."

"Didn't..." Didn’t something, and Elizabeth waited, not surprised when Rodney spoke again. "Well, I can't see you, but I can hear you."

"Yes, they told me," she said reaching for a hand. "How are you feeling now?"

"Better." His fingers squeezed hers, the motion a little unsure. "I'm starting to feel more... grounded again." He gestured when he said that, his free hand moving down.

"That's good to hear. We've been looking for you since Manara," Elizabeth said and it almost physically hurt to see Rodney this uncertain and fragile. She hadn't realized how much she had relied on him to be him.

Unsure of their situation, maybe, yes, but... Always Rodney. Always willing to push forwards, complaining or not. "I saw the, the, our base camp. Our alpha site."

"I know. Sora told me that you found...evidence there," Elizabeth replied, the tears still threatening to spring up unbidden even after a month of trying to adjust. They were her people. Her responsibility, and. And she had failed them, had failed to live up to her own high-set standards.

"Carson's shoulder patch near his corpse. He... at least wasn't culled." Rodney's mouth pulled down, twisting with the emotion in his words

"I'm so sorry Rodney. I know you and he..." She stopped a moment. "He was my friend as well. I know he was more than a friend to you."

"Seems everyone knows." Rodney turned his head slightly, eyes roving the room without stopping and looking at anything. "I always thought we were subtle."

"Rodney, neither of you are were any good at concealing your emotions," Elizabeth replied. "You practically lit up when you saw each other."

And this probably wasn't the best thing to be talking about.

“Huh. I just didn’t see it happening. I kept waiting, hoping for them to pull together and get us out and…”

"None of us could Rodney. I don't think -- from the reports it is the worst attack they’ve seen," Elizabeth said quietly. "I've been trying to think what could I have done... and there is nothing. So, I focused on trying to help someone who could be helped. You."

"I still don't... There are things that I haven't been able to follow yet. About what happened. I... understand it was a power play." Rodney tilted his head a little, and he wasn't quite looking at her. Towards her. "I've been sleeping a lot. Gisera came in and read to me earlier."

"I'll explain what I can," Elizabeth said. "They have politics here worse than we have on Earth, and we are close enough to the top to be involved. The way I understand it, the attack on Manara panicked the High Council. They demanded immediate answers and were convinced you had them... And myself to a lesser extent. When they took you… Kolya… I’ve never seen anyone so determined. He didn’t let up on looking for you. Or Idos or Sora. Bates agreed to help as well and I believe he has come to respect Idos more now since all this. Certainly he went on missions to find information. I have been distracting them with political maneuvering but... I eventually located the address where you were hidden this time. We'd tried to find you three times before and they moved you. This time Kolya and Idos located you."

"And Bates was there." He seemed to remember more of his rescue than Elizabeth would have expected. Rodney shifted, leaned back against the pillows and pulled the blankets up closer to his neck. "Funny thing is, now I'm, what I was doing must be weeks behind. Lost time."

"Short-cuts generally aren't," Elizabeth agreed. "They are working on things to ensure that they cannot do that again. And you need to rest a great deal before you think about work."

"I have no idea how I'll." Rodney moved his free hand, waving it in front of his eyes. "Bombs are all green wire, blue wire in the end, no matter what your material composition is, and since I can't even see the, the wires... "

"I was searching through their ancient artifacts, and I think there is something, possibly that might help. Not a cure but a device they used to see in differing modes. They have it locked away because it probably doesn't work for them but it might for you." Elizabeth said in a low voice. "See if the drug wears off, but if not, I will tell Kolya. After all he did, I have no doubt he will find a way to get this device even if it means stealing it."

"Huh. I don't understand why. I really don't, it's..." Rodney waved his fingers vaguely in the air. "I don't know. Not as if someone's going to miss their favorite museum piece or whatever it is. Of course the ancients would have something that could help."

"Hopefully you won't need it. There's still a chance apparently," Elizabeth said trying to sound hopeful, although the informal conversations they had had made her doubtful.

It seemed as if that drug, the one that had a pacifying effect that did wear off, did damage to certain bodily systems. Kolya had mentioned brain damage, retinal, organ failure as possible side effects. And Rodney still seemed quiet, cut down and mellowed out, and Elizabeth hoped it would wear off.

She hated to admit it, but if they were going to survive then they would need Rodney's brilliance. She could weld an alliance together, but without weapons it was an alliance of sheep against ravening wolves. She exhaled a little. "Rodney, I think, perhaps we’re stuck here. I'm not sure where else we would go now."

"I'm blind, you're probably wearing a straw hat and a corset, we're in another Galaxy with no way of going back home, and that’s only just struck you now?" Rodney's voice was still mellow, and a little raw, but Elizabeth wanted to laugh.

"We had options," Elizabeth said. "Before. Now... Now, I don't think we do."

And she knew she should have been more careful with her words, because Rodney's mouth twisted down again, misery sharp. "No. Our options are gone."

She squeezed his hand just a little. "I'm saying it because short of Earth finding a way here, I'm going to try and combat the Wraith using these resources. I shall understand if you do not want to."

"Not keen on dying. It's fight or give up, huh? I made it through a month of, of..." He waved his hand again, and Elizabeth couldn't quite imagine what it had been like, but Rodney wasn't quite himself any more. "I'll fight."

"You're a strong man Rodney," Elizabeth said, meaning every word. "If anyone can find a way, it will be you."

His mouth canted up a little. "Huh. Not going to argue that. So far every time I'm not amazingly egotistical, Jadon muses that I am brain-damaged. He wishes."

That made her smile. "I can imagine. Jadon applied for extra time as Allocated so he could support you and Kolya. Don't take him too seriously...I think he’s fond of you."

Rodney tipped his head down in an almost nod. "They're... surprisingly good people. I didn't know he asked for more time. I didn't even think that could be done?"

"Apparently so, if it is agreeable to both parties," she said. It had surprised her as well, but according to Sora many displaced Allocated people preferred to stay where things were secure than make their way on their own. It was something to think of.

"Apparently a lot of female-male allocations become marriage. They have jokes about that."

Not dissimilar ones to jokes they had on earth. The old ball and chain jokes, that she had only once heard Simon make. Now, of course, she would never see him again, but she was coping, and coping was the best that she could wish for. Sora was bright, and willing to listen to reason, not quite an iron-fisted woman. She took council from her father when she could, stuck close to his example, and was open-minded. Her entanglements with men never pulled her from her goals.

"I'm glad he's staying for a while longer." It almost clearly said that he liked the man, at least a little, to be glad that he was staying on.

"So am I," Elizabeth replied. "Bates is getting along much better with Idos. I believe it's been a little like boot camp for him all over again. Idos has had him as, well, a non-ranking aide of sorts. Using his training and experience."

"It's all we have." Rodney tilted his head again, like he was trying to see her or watch the direction her voice came from. "What do you do, now?"

"I am advising them on negotiations and on ancient writing translations," Elizabeth said. "More of the translations but, I was using the other to distract Chief Cowen."

So they could find Rodney. Elizabeth was sure there would be new political ramifications because of what had happened, and Sora had seemed sure that Kolya was willing to try to overthrow Cowan if the opportunity showed itself.

"Good."

That was a long way to go to secure Rodney's safety but she was already working on the political factions and compared to Earth's, they were familiar enough to be workable.

"Sora says I can visit whenever you want me to come over," Elizabeth said. "If that's what you want?"

He didn't answer right away, which was worrisome. "I'd appreciate the company."

"I'll come over every day then. But the Doctor says you should have a lot of rest to start with," Elizabeth soothed already wondering if she could find a way to bring him some of the treats that Sora had tempted her with. Rodney had a sweet tooth. Maybe that would help a little. "I'll do more research on that ancient device. Otherwise... otherwise you could dictate to me, or I could read you things?"

"Either. I..." Rodney gave another almost laugh. "I've always been visual. Even if I don't understand something, if I can see it, I can usually... make it work."

"We'll make this work," Elizabeth replied. "The ancients could do amazing things. Some could even heal with just a touch. There's still hope." There had to be hope or they would lose Rodney completely.

He squeezed her fingers lightly, and tipped his head again. "Not holding out for a miracle this time."

"No, I understand. But even so..." She just wanted him to have something back instead of what was taken. " I have to go Rodney, but I'll be back tomorrow. Anything you want me to bring you?"

"Doesn't matter. Just come back." And a Rodney who didn't ask for food or comfort items was strange. That made it all the more important to try and coax him back, and Elizabeth made a private vow that she would find a way to do that come what may.

She squeezed his hand again and leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Rest well Rodney. I'll find something to entertain you."

“Thanks. I never thought I'd miss things like... MP3 players." There was another quirk of his mouth, and he let her kiss his cheek. From downstairs, Sora called her name.

"Within a year, you'll have them making them," Elizabeth said. "I must go. Rest Well."

And with that she left, back to Sora and the others downstairs. Rodney had to make it. Otherwise there was little hope for any of them.

* * *

Acastus lay awake listening for the inevitable nightmare from Rodney. He had been careful; generous with touching and tactile comfort but never pushing further because he needed the next step to be of Rodney's choosing. It was perhaps the most critical thing in the whole process and he wasn't going to ruin it by being impatient.

He listened as he had every night to Rodney's breathing become ragged and panicked and waited.

It was a little like clockwork. Sometimes, Acastus slept through it, but he needed his rest. If he slept through the night without break, then he was better prepared for the day to come, the maneuvers and hours of hard training that he knew were to come. Jadon quieted Rodney a little on those nights, but Acastus could already hear the stirring from the other bed.

He listened to the sounds and the progress of the nightmare and heard the sounds Rodney made and as he reached the end he heard the gulping shift in breathing that meant the scientist had woken himself up with his night terrors.

He gave Rodney a few moments to calm a little and then said into the silence, "Rodney? Are you awake?"

Rodney was quieter now than he had been before, more tenuous in everything he did or said. He hid away in the bedding when he could, so his answer was muffled. "Yes."

"Another nightmare?" he asked softly. He had to pitch this just right.

He could see Rodney's shorn head moving, a faint bob of motion. "Yes."

Acastus exhaled a little. "Would it help, Rodney, to know you are not alone?" he asked. "You need to sleep... if you think it will help you sleep then you are welcome to join us in this bed. I have only not offered before because I know your culture is less... forgiving of male to male interaction."

Acastus watched Rodney's fingers move on the bedding, and he was still quiet, so silent that for a moment, he thought Rodney had slipped back to sleep. And then he shifted, sitting up. "I didn't want to interfere."

"You have been suffering out of... politeness?" Acastus replied allow a hint of amazement to enter his tone. "Oh, Rodney... I apologize for thinking you would prefer to be alone. That was never my intention. Come, there is plenty of room."

Rodney moved slowly, pushing the bedding back. There was always a bite to the air at night, the cities cold in their tucked away space beneath the earth. Winter did not help the problem. Acastus watched Rodney swing his legs over the edge of the bed, poised tensely. He'd been making Rodney venture small distances on his own, and Rodney seemed to sense that that was expected of him this time.

Watching him stand, watching him take measured steps that he was no doubt counting in his head, one hand held out in front of him, was fascinating. There was honestly no room in Genii society for the crippled, for the chronically ill, unless they managed to impart on the world great gain despite their state, so there was a certain novelty to watching Rodney take his first steps towards coping.

He leaned and reached out his hand to the one questing in front of him. "I am here, I have you," he murmured. "Come, Jadon is sleeping on the other side of me, and very little wakes him."

Rodney was not proving as weak and soft as Acastus had at first feared he might have been left after the work that had been made of him. If anything, he would fare better now. He was leaner, and starting to recover physically, and his attitude had been sufficiently adjusted. His fingers closed around Acastus's hand, grip tight, and he took a careful step forwards until his knee hit the edge of the mattress. "Good."

"Here, I have put back the covers," he murmured. "I do not wish you to get cold. There, now..."

There. Right there, crawling into bed beside him. Rodney put a hand on Acastus's hip, and kept it there, shifting and sliding beneath the sheets with a little less grace than Acastus would have preferred, but Rodney was warm once he was beneath the covers, latching onto Acastus.

He let him settle a moment before asking in a soft voice. "Better?" He would not make the first move, he would just be gently encouraging.

The humiliation of his captivity had already worn some of Rodney's habits thin, or away. When he had been allocated, he'd always slept dressed, even if it was in an open shirt and poorly tied trousers. He slept in a robe instead, now. And sometimes it ended up pushed off in his sleepy, nightmare struggles, and Rodney failed to notice. He pressed close against Acastus's front, shivering from the cool air outside of the blankets. "Yes." 

Skin to skin was warmer, after all. "Good," Acastus replied and draped an arm over him, even as Jadon had over Acastus’s body. His hand stroked gently over healing skin, almost absently.

There were threaded ripples of scar tissue, damage that marked Rodney but did not ruin him. He enjoyed touching Rodney, enjoyed looking at him. Perhaps if they woke in a timely manner in the morning, he would shave the stubble from Rodney's jaw and cheeks, instead of leaving the task to Jadon.

Rodney tilted his head a little, shifting closer. His knee brushed Acastus's, and his hips canted forwards slightly with the motion, half-hard cock pressing against Acastus's hip.

"Comfortable?" he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. "Yes?" That was a good sign, some form of physical reaction from Rodney. He would back off if he had to, but... he didn't want to.

Rodney wasn't particularly tense, but he did hesitate a little before he murmured, "Yes. Jadon won't...?"

"He probably won't wake, and even if he does, he won't mind anything," Acastus replied reassuringly. "He likes to curl around anyone. Perhaps tomorrow night you might wish to sleep in the middle." He introduced the idea – Jadon could help with Rodney when he was unable to be there. He was a very appealing young man.

And now that he'd had some sense beaten into him, and some softness cut away, Rodney was a very appealing man as well. They could make quite the picture for Acastus if Rodney were so inclined. "Huh. I... was dreaming about the wraith. The adrenalin..." He shifted a little, and pressed fingers against Acastus's chest. His hands were still sturdy, had stopped shaking.

"Only a fool does not fear the Wraith," Acastus replied. "But a brave man does not let fear rule him." It was a good sign and he gentled his hands over Rodney’s skin again. 

He let his fingers trail down Rodney's side, lingering down to the edge of his hipbone. No pressure, just letting Rodney have time to contemplate what they were doing, because in the end, if Rodney chose it, it would be so much easier. "In this galaxy, brave men seem to seize the day instead of waiting for it."

"We make the most of the time we get," Acastus murmured. "We live in the moment because the future may never come."

An old saying, but a pertinent one.

"Yeah, we had... 'seize the day' people. They tended to drink a lot." He couldn't see Rodney's features, but Rodney couldn't see how Acastus was looking at him, either, so perhaps it put them on more of an even keel than they usually were. The fingers on his chest pressed, and then shifted down to Acastus's stomach, and Rodney leaned up, pressing his mouth unsurely against Acastus's jaw.

Acastus shifted just enough so lips could find lips and... he hadn't been wrong. Rodney had been with men before, he knew what he was doing. And Acastus was glad about that, because he always responded swiftly to such touches. "Mmm."

No blushing virgin, no working him up to the idea, then, because once Rodney pressed his lips against Acastus's, he shifted just that much closer, pressing himself hard against Acastus, his hand sliding between them. Jadon had a certain wanton excitability about him in bed. Everything was a show. This had a different feel to it.

He liked the taste of it in Rodney's lips, the feel of it in his fingers. Vulnerability but experience. Yes... "That feels good, Rodney. Are you sure...?"

"Yeah." Rodney murmured that against his mouth, and then fingers were sliding around Acastus's dick., feeling over him as intensely as Acastus guessed Rodney might have looked at him under better, different circumstances. "Not that deciding this after a dream like that is the best thing. But I do better with people if I don't... over think."

"Thinking has its plus points in the right place and time," he murmured and kissed Rodney again, moving against him, his hand and reaching for his cock in return.

Rodney's cock looked different, and while the occasion hadn't come up to ask why it was missing flesh, perhaps he'd bring it up sometime. As it was, Rodney seemed to know what to do with his, fisting it slowly, sliding his thumb over the head.

On the principle you gave what you liked, Acastus followed suit, wanting to stir some pleasure into the man's senses even if it was just a hand job in the dark. That would suffice with the kissing and touches.

They'd work towards it. Slowly, steadily, and Rodney had to be aware that he was setting a precedent with his actions, had to be aware that he'd set foot on a nearly inevitable path. And given that there was nothing left in life for Rodney but being amongst the Genii, he was no doubt comfortable with it.

And that had been the idea. Acastus knew that he had been forcing an imprinting on Rodney with the rescue. It was one of the reasons he had been so personally attentive at the start. He knew how to balance everything and if the process was incidentally enjoyable then he wasn't going to complain. It wasn't a complete lie, any of it. Rodney's lost partner was no doubt dead and it was better he face that sooner rather than later. Cowan had been agitating for more results, they had been made nervous by the attack on Manara. 

He just knew how to reap the rewards. And if it happened that Chief Cowen could not see the seeds of his own downfall in what he had done, so much the better.

He moved his hand firmly, decisively, stroking Rodney toward climax.

Finally, finally there was a quiet stream of words from Rodney. Just murmurs, 'fuck' and 'god' and muted noises, his hips shifting against Acastus's hand, pressing himself closer. His fingers faltered on Acastus for a moment, faltered and strained before he started to stroke harder, too, exhaling hard before Acastus felt wet on his fingers.

That was always something he enjoyed. The feeling he had been the one to make them come. He allowed himself to follow suit with little effort despite Jadon’s attention earlier on. After a few moments of breathing heavily he reached over to the side of the bed and soft cloths on the side to wipe them off.

"Thank you, Rodney."

"Haven't done that in too long." Rodney pressed closer again, huddling in and pulling the blankets up a little higher. Yes, they could sleep that way and tomorrow he'd see if Rodney would like to join them from the start, and perhaps eventually that separate bed in the room could be done away with altogether.

Then Rodney would be reliant on him for all things, including physical comfort.

"I know... but hopefully there will be no occasion for such a gap again," he murmured. "I think you will sleep soundly now, without nightmares."

There was another muted sound, one of assent, and Acastus could feel Rodney settle his hand on Acastus's side again. Tired, sated, and still recovering from all that Acastus had had done to Rodney -- yes, he'd sleep soundly for the rest of the night.

* * *

Slide through, and pull, slide through, and pull, tiny careful stitches that made him want to squirm where he sat. He couldn't quite squirm -- there was a hand pressed against his forehead, keeping him steady even if he wanted to try to break free. Slide through and pull, all over again.

"Dr. McKay, please hold still. This is precise work," the doctor told him as he stitched through the numbed eyelids. "We have to do this to enable you prevent from further damage to your optic nerves that might prevent the... device from working."

"I have no idea how stitching my eyes closed will save my optic nerves..." It seemed like it defied logic, but Kolya was very close, watching him as he tried to keep still. The Device, as they kept calling it, was supposed to not fix the problem, but it would help him in a way that made Rodney think of Star Trek.

It didn't quite 'look' like Geordie LaForge's visor when he had felt it and heard the gasps as it hummed into life from his ATA enhanced touch. It was smoother and molded itself to the skin in a band effect over the eyes. Rodney suspected there was a form of Nanotechnology at work, but apparently it would attach and detach at will. So Elizabeth said from the notes.

"If your eyes, even damaged as they are, are open and receiving light then it is possible the nerves will continue to fire," the doctor said. "We have seen cases of varstemerol poisoning where this has led to unendurable pain. Commander Kolya does not wish you to suffer this fate."

“Right. Holding still." He clenched his jaw, and hoped it would make it easier to keep still, that the strange discomfort of knowing and feeling his eyelids being stitched closed would be bearable. It didn't even make a difference in how light or dark his work was, but the visor... the visor was supposed to.

"Nearly done. The Commander is outside with the... Device," and yes he could hear a hint of awe in the Doctor’s voice as he continue stitching. "In fact, there is a group of people waiting."

"I'm sure there is." Kolya had been fully prepared to steal it, but Cowan had... had been inclined to use common sense. No-one else could activate it, and he'd been sure that Rodney would not be able to, either. Taking the device would extend his allocation time, but Rodney didn't care. It worked for him, came to life under his fingers.

"There..." There was a faint tug and then the sensation of the skin being wiped. "I will give you something to wipe them with to prevent infection, but after a few days, they will be healed in nicely. " More wiping, and cleaning and the Doctor said. "You should be able to try the Device now."

He didn't reach up to touch his eyes, even though he was tempted. "Thanks." Standing up was still an unsteady thing, and so was going up and down stairs. So far he was mostly relying by mentally counting steps, now that he was strong enough to feel restless if he stayed abed for very long.

"Just out through here," the Doctor encouraged. "Here..." He tried to steer him to the door.

And Rodney understood it as well meaning, but people had a tendency to reach for him and jerk at him as if he wasn't supposed to have personal boundaries anymore. Gisera let him know where she was before she tried to steer him anywhere, and Jadon at least gave advance warning, while Kolya tried to get Rodney to follow his voice, with the odd warning of 'table to your left', which always left Rodney wondering if the table was going to jump out and savage his leg. He much preferred that to the hand around his arm. 

He could hear Kolya's voice as well as Idos and Sora. He was beginning to think of them as a sort of triumvirate and attached to them as ever were Elizabeth and Bates.

"Ah Rodney, I take it the procedure was not too distressing?

"Like something out of a horror movie." Rodney headed towards the sound of Kolya's voice, pulling away from the doctor with a little more assurance. Kolya would stop him before he walked into anyone, and Rodney could trust Kolya to not move.

"Well hopefully this will banish those memories," Kolya replied in the gruff voice he used in public. "Elizabeth, you are our apparent expert. Just run through what you were telling us."

"Rodney, I've done the translations. As far as I can tell, don't expect too much immediately, the visor takes some time to learn the patterns of your neural pathways. But you should be able to 'see' after a fashion almost immediately - at least in terms of some sort of sensory information your mind will interpret as vision, okay?"

“Has to be better than what I have now." He had a hand out in front of him, and he stopped when he could feel the fabric of Kolya's coat sleeve. That was good enough, close enough, and he let go as soon as he'd grounded himself with some idea of where he was.

"Here, I am passing this to you now," Kolya replied. "Apparently you… activate it, and then slip it on like you would glasses."

Something cool and metal touched his fingers, and immediately he felt a hum and that surface grow warm.

Activated, so the next step was making sure that it was situated in his hands correctly. Rodney held it for a moment, quietly hoped he didn't have it on upside down, and then raised it to his face.

It felt smooth and warmed to his skin and it slipped on easily and then he felt a slight pressure stretching up to his temples and then…

Something like pain, something like the sharpness of a bright bright light flashing in his eyes.

"Dammit!" Dammit, that hurt, enough to make him jerk back, but that didn't get him away from it, it was attached to his head, threatening to drop him to his knees before the pain stopped as sharply and as suddenly as it had started. There was still too much bright in his head, and his eyelids were already closed.

"Rodney?" Kolya was there, his arm around him steadying him. "Is something wrong?"

Things were happening, strange sensations and ... God, color but in strange patterns he didn't understand. Patterns that twitched and vibrated in a strange shape when Kolya said, "Here, sit, I think you need to let it adjust."

"You look like fall," Rodney blurted, while Kolya guided him past new bursts of color and patterns that made his head hurt. It was like stepping out of a subterranean cave into the heat of a desert at high noon, and it felt as if some indeterminate spot in his skull was on fire.

"You can see him?" That was Elizabeth and there were shapes there and movement and streams of information flowing through them like water. She was a waterfall of light and color, Kolya was leaves swirled by the wind and he was finding their edges little by little as his brain started to process things.

"It's different. It's like the data screens in Atlantis." Just like that, non-sense things until it was plugged straight into your brain and then Rodney was being forced to interpret and deal with the information. The water flowed, shifted, and he pulled back a little just before her fingertips touched the side of his head, brushing short-shaved hair. "It's going to take some getting used to."

"It's not painful though?" Kolya asked and he started getting information appear in his head like his average body temperature, radiant electromagnetic field strength. It was all jumbled in together and he hadn't even started trying to use it. Like actually using it to produce something like a magnetic resonance image... 

And there it was, abruptly, like an MRI of the whole room, recognizable shapes still hard to process but...much easier than the default mode. Perhaps he could learn to layer them. Infrared maybe, as well as MRI. That was uncomfortable but he could see the heat patterns filling out the three dimensional shapes of the MRI images.

"When I put it on, it was. That's stopped. There was a feeling of pressure, and that's fading. I can..." He eased back with a concentrated thought to just the MRI, a little less overlaying data to handle at once. "I can see you in so many different ways. MRI, infrared, ancient data stream, it's..." 

"The important thing is that you can see," Kolya was saying and already he was getting some sense of him, of him moving and reaching for a chair. A chair that looked oddly two-dimensional compared to the energy emissions from people and the equipment.

Huh...he could see electrical flow. It was disorienting, but pieces of thought were already coming to him on how useful that would prove to be, that he could see everything in those different ways, and if he could just concentrate and focus and adjust to it. "It's amazing. This whole room is glowing with energy from the people, the lights, the equipment, except that chair is flat, and..."

"Can you find your way around?" Idos asked. "Or ...read?"

"I would give it a while to adjust before you try that Rodney," Elizabeth cautioned but she sounded delighted.

"I'm not sure about reading, but I think I'll be able to make my way around." He'd have to think about what sort of visual frame would allow him to read, since mostly it was shapes and people, and while everything felt a little strained at the moment, it was probably like adjusting to a new prescription of glasses. "This is amazing."

"They were designed to be a useful adjunct to vision. I suspect there must be some way of using them to read when you are working with them," Elizabeth said.

"Well, I think this is a cause to celebrate," Kolya offered.

"I think so." He knew he was probably going to be tired soon, thinking through all the new information, but it had worked, and the world was starting to up itself in resolution, slowly but surely. It had to be nanotechnology, twinned with the ATA gene recognition technology.

"Then, I believe Gisera has prepared a special meal for us all. Commander Idos, Commander Sora, I invite you and your Allocated to join us in celebrating this new beginning."

As soon as Rodney got to his feet again, which Rodney didn’t think would be until he'd stopped looking back and forth and around the room, taking in the new way things looked after so long without anything looking like anything.

By the time they reached home, he was already starting to judge distances correctly. When they sat, he didn't have to wait to be pointed in the direction of food. He could look at who was talking and things were starting to make more and more sense.

And there was a growing sense of relief that he wouldn't be useless.

He could function like that. It wasn't normal vision, no, but it worked and it would in some ways be more useful to him. It was getting marginally better with every minute that passed, too, which was a relief for Rodney, like the resolution was resolving itself. And he was getting a hang of depth perception in unexpected ways.

If there were nanobots then they would establish a more sophisticated interface over time. But things were cooler further away. Resonance was different. Ultrasound, ultrasound was fantastic. It was like a radar ping mapping out the room in 3-d.

"Does this mean Rodney will be working his State allocation again?" Sora said as she finished a mouthful of the strange but flavorsome dish that was apparently a Genii delicacy.

"Only if I have a means of ensuring his safety," Kolya replied. "However, I am hoping as part of his adjustment that Rodney will be able to construct something that will allow me to find him should he need it."

"Simple tracking device. I had one put in my cat back home, in case he ever got loose -- one of those ones where they'd scan his neck and voila, they'd know where he really belonged?" He leaned towards Elizabeth when he said that, a piece of bread grasped loosely in his fingers. He'd managed to cut it himself, which was a minor miracle.

Elizabeth chuckled. "You're going to chip yourself?" she asked

"Chip...?" Idos asked and Bates swallowed a mouthful.

"Computer processor chip. We used them back on Earth to track lost pets." He could hear the amusement in the marine’s voice and yes, he was starting to recognize the signs that someone was smiling.

Faces were still strange pieces of processing information, and nothing except the infrared gave him the kind of definition he was looking for when it came to faces, but it was already getting better. In a few weeks, Rodney imagined he'd be as good at interacting with his environment as he'd ever been. "So, yes. In essence, I'm going to chip myself." There was no reason not to.

"See? I knew he would have some solution?" He could tell that Kolya was tilting his glass at him in acknowledgement of his ability, even if he wasn’t particularly sure where the level of liquid was.

"So Rodney, what have you been able to detect so far?" Sora asked.

"X-rays, infrared, the ancient's preferred way of interpreting data which, I'm not sure what it's based on, but it's interesting, energy output, MRI, temperature -- for example..." Rodney concentrated for a moment, looking across the table at Sora. He let his mind reach, shifting sluggishly back to the general, 'default' setting. "Right now, you look like earth and green, and I can't see your face, but I can see your height, temperature, weight, relation to the table, the angle of flexation of your arm, and a charted assumption of what the next move of that arm will be. And it's like I can see it with my eyes, but it's all there in my head."

"Be careful of telling people their weight Rodney," Elizabeth said smiling. "If Sora is Earth and green...what am I?"

"Water, and crystals, and Kolya looks like leaves on the wind. I assume it's a very disorienting way to meet new people, looking at the world this way. I think I’ll do better with infrared." And the table was something, something Rodney couldn't even give words to, smooth data stream.

"That's...almost poetical. But then the ancients were a very aesthetic people," Elizabeth noted. "I suppose if you think about it, we have to learn how to process stimuli, and it will just take a little time. There were studies done on Earth where people learn to "see" through their brains interpreting tactile information mapped onto their back."

It was one of those times that Rodney could only guess what the Genii thought of them. He looked over towards Kolya, trying to see if he could gauge a reaction through the Ancients data stream view. "It will take time to really command it, but I think as soon as I'm... chipped, I can go back to my work."

"It is a shame that he cannot go on missions," Idos said. "Think of the advantages - he'd be able to see ambushes!"

Kolya did not sound amused. "That is something I will only consider if there is no other option."

Which was fine by Rodney. "I was thinking of the usefulness for working with delicate equipment," Rodney shrugged, not quite willing to say anything harsh to Idos.

"Once a soldier...always a soldier," Sora said sounding amused. "I'm sorry Rodney, we are trained to look for ambushes every shadow. Your new skills are like a gift of the ancestors to our profession."

"Well once the doc is up and running again, there's a few things I've used that might help us out," Bates said. "Night vision, that sort of thing."

'Us'. Even though Rodney was sleeping with Kolya, Bates was the first of them to say...'us' and mean all of them.

All of them, Genii and Earth, not just those who'd been on the expedition. "Yes. Yes -- I can replicate those with some work, but really, I think not-dying of radiation poisoning is a top consideration still. Kolya, do you know if they continued with my notes after I disappeared, or...?"

"They have, yes," Kolya replied. "Securing the amounts of lead has been a priority. They feel you are overstating the risk however."

"He's really not," Elizabeth said. "Many of the pioneers of nuclear physics were eventually killed by their exposure to the radiation involved."

"Its effects on the human body are substantial. Our people saw enough of it early on in our nuclear experiments that we know -- there's no reason for the Genii to suffer the same loss of life." Rodney carefully moved his hand to pick up his glass.   
"Or loss of fertility. Even low levels can produce that." Elizabeth said. "Or produce tumors and sickness."

"There have been incidences of tumors, but no one has connected it to the work," Sora said.

"Perhaps it is time they do so. Rodney's use of an artifact of the ancestors will give him a...certain authority with many people," Kolya said. "You should capitalize on that Rodney."

"By making sure we're not living in a superfund site." Rodney lifted his eyebrows a little, and sat back in the chair. "I plan on it. Has anyone ever died from diarrhea and internal bleeding after having been part of the program?"

"I believe so. It was diagnosed as an unknown disease," Sora said. "Is there anything that can be done?"

"It depends on the dosages. I'll see what I can remember and try to make your doctors understand it. Carson would have been... so much more useful in the treating than I am. Prevention, though, I can do. Anyway, after a certain radiation level, fatality if guaranteed even if exposure was fractionated." Rodney glanced around the table, taking another sip of his drink. It wasn't wine, though Kolya tended to drink that. It was the same as Gisera and Jadon drank, a slightly spicy, fruit-based drink.

If he looked at it hard enough he started to get information on chemicals and interactions and he was going to need to shut that out most of the time, although at least he would know for sure what was citrus and what wasn’t. Perhaps with the medicine he had, he wasn’t supposed to have wine.

Gisera and Jadon had been preparing the meal for them all, and were apparently working on some extra-special dessert at the moment in the kitchen. If he looked he could see them through the wall... oh... 

Well he'd never thought Jadon was one to go for women at all.

Not with the way the man was with Kolya, but that was really unsanitary, and he was never going to pick up a piece of anything dropped on that counter again for the rest of his life. It was hard to not stop staring, because he could see their body heat right through the walls, and that was a lot of heat.

"Rodney? Rodney... are you okay?" Elizabeth waved her hand across his vision. "We've been trying to get your attention. Anything wrong?"

The hand cutting across his vision scared the hell out of him, and he jerked backwards. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I can just... see into the kitchen. Like the wall isn't there."

"Ah yes." Kolya sounded amused and for a moment Rodney was absolutely certain he knew exactly what was going on in that kitchen. "I'm sure that dessert will be served shortly."

In about two minutes after Jadon picked himself off the floor and as long as he didn't fall asleep.

"Mind the cream topping," Rodney muttered into his glass, and tilted his head down so he could stop looking at that particularly train wreck. Kolya had to know, know and be at ease with it, which struck Rodney as... actually, not that unexpected.

Kolya didn't miss much, seemed absolutely fine and unusually liberal when it came to people's relationships as long as jobs got done. He wasn't jealous over Jadon, nor was he particularly possessive. In fact he seemed more possessive over Rodney rather than his other Allocated. It was...nice in a strange way.

It felt like security, like being safe, and hell. He was volunteering to have himself chipped for tracking purposes. If that wasn't a bizarre way of coping with the dangers of the Pegasus galaxy, Rodney didn't know what would could as strange. He started to laugh between bites of his bread.

"Rodney?" Elizabeth had that puzzled note in her voice. "I have a feeling things are going to go on like this aren't they? You seeing something amusing and us... out of the loop." No real difference to the rest of his life then.

He swallowed his mouthful of bread, and grinned at her. "Haven't I always found the strangest stuff funny?"

"Well yes, I suppose you have..."

Whatever else she was about to say was interrupted by Gisera and Jadon bringing in the dessert, looking a little hot and flushed. "Here we are... apparently this is a favorite sweet on Gisera's world. It is very good. And it seems to involve alcohol as well as a lot of sweet things."

Rodney had to bite the inside of his cheek to not laugh, and he watched them start to cut the spongy-looking cake to serve up. Hands down, Genii cooking, and the food from whatever planet Gisera had been from, was far superior to tuttleroot soup. Even if he missed Teyla more than he'd ever expected he could. There was a small part of him that would hope that maybe one of them would've survived. Just one, and Teyla was the logical one. She knew more about this galaxy than they had done but…

But Manara had been culled, the Gateships destroyed, the Stargate locked shut. If she had been there, there really was no hope.

"Thank you Jadon, Gisera. Please sit and join us. We are all looking forward to the fruits of your labors," Kolya replied. 

Rodney took a bite, cutting off a gooey forkful, and he tasted it slowly, sweet and flavor hitting his tongue hard. "Mmm, it's like rumcake. Of all the things to exist on multiple galaxies..."

All he needed now was to find the Pegasus equivalent of coffee and chocolate and he'd be set. Try as he might he couldn't shift the nostalgia for the smell of coffee in the morning. The teas were all well and good and the drink Kolya favored called vrah was bitter and spicy, but it wasn't coffee. Tava was more like cocoa and malt and creosote.

"I'm taking this is a good thing," Kolya asked.

"Oh yes, very," Elizabeth said appreciatively. "This is wonderful."

"Thank you," Gisera replied helping herself. "It is one of those that improves for keeping a few days. So I made a second batch at the same time."

Rodney would have to see if he could function stealthily enough to sneak a little when no-one was looking. He tasted another mouthful, and it was a moment when someone else would have closed their eyes.

Except there didn't seem to be any way to turn off the output in front of his eyes.

So, there were a few flaws in the system, but compared to even hours earlier suddenly things were looking a lot more optimistic. He had no doubt he could make this work. He could get this to work and that was important because however supportive Kolya was and had been, if he couldn't be useful it was self evident that the genii had little use for non-useful people.

He could see again. He could see things others couldn't see and when he mastered this, he would be able to drag the Genii forward by a good century or so because they needed to get good fast.

And he could tell for the first time that Kolya was watching him, that his attention rarely strayed from him and that was...just a little unexpected.

More than a little unexpected. It was a level of attention that he didn't know what to do with, that he wasn't used to having focused on him so intently. At least when he couldn't see, he wasn't aware that even though Idos was suggesting something to Sora and Elizabeth, Kolya was watching him.

He knew Kolya could be an intense man, but he wasn't sure how he had come to be on the receiving end of that focused intensity. He was used to people working around him, dealing with him but not since Carson was there anyone making a space in their life that was for only him.

Truth was, he needed that right now.

Idos had apparently told some sort of joke and even Elizabeth and Bates were laughing. Gisera was giggling as if she had been drinking the liquor that had give the cake such a alcoholic kick. It was relaxed and friendly and rather abruptly Rodney realized it was a party for him.

For and about him, and that... that was something that he hadn't thought would exactly ever happen in those circumstances. He had another taste of cake, and picked up his glass again, leaning forwards a little to see if he could get in on the joke.

* * *

It had been fascinating to watch. A little like watching a flower bloom, or perhaps an explosion in slow motion, but Acastus had seen Rodney turn from a man uncertain and withdrawn to talkative, and exuberant with gestures as he had been before.

And talking, the talking had returned and hadn't stopped even now the both of them were in bed. He'd given permission for Jadon to be with Gisera if she would have him because he wanted tonight to be for him and Rodney, to seal a willing bond between them.

They were not so different from each other. Rodney liked to have control -- a certain amount, enough to navigate and manipulate the world around him, even if nothing else. Who was actually running the show did not seem to matter as long as he could interact with the parts and the other players. As long as he understood his place in Acastus's home...

And Acastus did not expect for Rodney to forget his place, after what had been done to him. Nor after how Acastus had helped him mend himself, taking control of unnecessary decisions, guiding Rodney to where they were now. "So Jadon and Gisera? How did I miss that?"

"They are discreet," Acastus murmured. "And it does not seem to dull Jadon's enthusiasm." He turned and reached for Rodney. "As you well know."

"No, I know. It's just..." Rodney was grinning a little, looking at him. As much as Acastus had enjoyed the sight of those big, almost fearfully vacant blue eyes, he would learn to adjust to the slim metal band that covered Rodney's eyes and let him grin like that again. "I wouldn't have guessed. Probably because of his 'enthusiasm'..."

There was something endearing about the way he smiled and Acastus touched his cheek. "I have missed your smile," he said. "I think this is the first time I have ever really seen it."

"Probably." Rodney was quietly candid about that, and he turned his head slightly, pressing his lips against Acastus's palm. "I could be very miserable for the rest of my short existence. Or I can do everything I can."

"Once..." Acastus replied "Once, I made much the same decision and then surprised myself by not dying as young as I felt that I should've. And despite everything, I find new reasons where I least expect to see them."

He leaned in then to kiss Rodney with some of the heat that had been simmering in him for most of the evening,.

The night before, before the visor, Rodney had been quietly babbling about love. About how he didn’t love, great heroic, 'theater' love, and that if anyone -- himself, Acastus had guessed -- wanted that they were looking at the wrong person. But that he did functional love and that he'd fixed Carson's shower to have an extra ten minutes of hot water and that was love.

When Rodney leaned in to kiss Acastus hard, hands clutching loosely at Acastus's upper arms, Acastus knew he had Rodney, great theories on love or not. And maybe he could persuade that ‘functional love’ to embrace the Genii people.

Rodney would find the genius that only desperate people with something to protect could reach. And he, with any luck, would get a very willing bed partner.

"Rodney would you want... would you let me... ?"

It was hard to gauge Rodney's cultural taboos, with little to go on but Rodney's own words, but it seemed as if not explicitly saying it would be more likely to bridge that step for Acastus. Rodney shifted his hands, and pressed another kiss against Acastus's mouth, a dart of tongue sliding against his lips. "Yeah."

"Just tell me if..." He didn't say any more because Rodney could make of that what he willed. He kissed again and his hands move more seriously over him. He knew how to make it feel really good for him and he wanted it to be an unqualified success. There would be oil and plenty of preparation, attention and stimulation.

Rodney would have no qualms about coming back for more. Acastus would make sure of it in the way that he started to unfasten Rodney's tunic. "If, sure. Don't expect me to, it's not like you're the first person I've ever slept with, or that I'm a quaking virgin..."

"Perhaps I can make you 'quake' just a little," Acastus murmured as he kissed that spot on Rodney's neck that seemed to get to him every time. His hands were busy unwrapping him, teasing over skin.

"Good quaking... " Rodney had a particular groan, low in his throat that rumbled up when Acastus kissed that spot, that made Rodney arch his back and press closer.

"What does it look like, Rodney, when we do this?" Acastus asked as he kissed at the sensitive spot again. "Mmm."

"Bursts of energy and patterns. It's amazing..." Rodney's voice slipped towards breathlessness, and perhaps he was seeing the very parts of the air in front of his face.

And then he started to try to undress Acastus in turn.

This was good. Less passive, more involved, more interested. Fingers more sure of what they were doing and that was good. He pulled open his shirt, allowed him to strip him off before returning to kiss him again over his chest.

Rodney's build had narrowed, slimmed down and gotten stronger with his time recovering, the month in captivity, and Acastus liked the feel of it under his fingers, the way that Rodney clutched at his back and groaned. "We should do this on the bed. Then maybe I could get my boots off. I wish you could see what I see right now."

"I wish I could too," Acastus agreed, but took the advice and tugged him over to the bed. "I have been watching you all evening."

It seemed to still Rodney a little, and his voice slanted towards curiosity as he pulled away a little to sit on the bed and start at his own boots. "I noticed. It was... Intense."

Ah, so he had been right. Rodney thrived on attention.

"I was watching a miracle in progress..." Acastus said taking the moment to get the rest of his clothes off. "That is an intense experience."

"Why do you call it a miracle in progress?" Rodney got his boots off, but he was watching Acastus disrobe from the tilt of his head, and the rest of his motions seemed vaguely distracted.

"I was watching you...come back to life in front of me. To talk, to smile again. To give as good as you got. There are many that would've been broken by that forever. You have shown yourself to be... stronger than most would've believed," Acastus said, reaching to get on the bed, and ensuring the oil was close at hand. 

A faint red spread over Rodney's cheeks as he stood up, and slid his pants down. He was a sight to behold, now. His cock bobbed, half erect, flushed like his cheeks. "I'm still, it changed something. But..."

"But you are still you, your mind still works, your body too... certain parts better than others," he said and leaned enough to fondle his cock just a little. "Tonight is just us Rodney, for you and for me. Sometimes I get a little...possessive."

And if he judged Rodney right, he wouldn't mind that at all.

Just the act of curling his fingers around Rodney's dick made Rodney lean in to his touch, made him reach out to use Acastus's shoulders to steady himself before he got onto the mattress. "I noticed that, too. You're... I think I expect that from you."

"Being accustomed to loss doesn't make you more careless," Acastus said, stroking him a little even as he settled. "It makes you want to hold onto what you have even more.” He illustrated his words by pulling Rodney close for another kiss and a tangle of limbs.

It was the attention, mental, physical, emotional, that Rodney seemed to crave. All it took was a little to satisfy Rodney, a moderate amount to simply overwhelm him, and Acastus wanted him overwhelmed, overcome with it. Rodney kissed him back, friction and tongue and the faint scrape of stubble against his own, and he pressed against Acastus's thigh when he pressed it between Rodney's muscled legs.

He wanted anything he had ever done with other lovers to feel as a pale comparison and he knew enough to do it. He could have Rodney do anything over time which was a self-indulgent through and one he would not go further with. He was doing this for a reason and the gratification was a happy coincidence.

A very happy coincidence. The kissing became more insistent, more passionate without restraint. 

Rodney reacted for Acastus. Just for Acastus, groaning low in his throat when he rocked up against Acastus, and arching against him when Acastus twisted them in bed, when he pinned Rodney against the deep mattress. He was breathing hard when Acastus pulled back.

"You can say no..." Acastus murmured. "But I think you don't want to."

He reached for the oil then, knowing the preparation alone would have Rodney helpless before him. A very attractive prospect. His fingers, slick and warm crept down to smoothed over skin, and slip and tease.

"You'd be right in thinking that. I've already done the overwrought debating in my head. Days ago." Rodney slid his hands over Acastus's back, fingers teasing and pressing in mild mimicry of what Acastus was doing with his fingers. Except it was Rodney's balls that Acastus was caressing, and Rodney drew one leg up, bent his knee, to give Acastus easier access.

"Days, hmm?" Acastus tested whether he liked careful or rough and settle on a mixture of both. "And you have waited this long."

"I was still getting used to things." Things. He Acastus and Jadon sharing a bed, maneuvering around the house by himself, needing help in the simplest of matters. A little self reliance under his belt again, and McKay was ready to conquer the world around, one tiny step at a time. It was the sort of thing that Acastus wanted to indulge. 

Rodney shifted, pressing his knee against Acastus's hip, canted his own hips up against Acastus’s fingers. He was tight, tight and not straining or scared of Acastus, and it made him glad of his decision for them to leave that much of Rodney untouched.

He took the chance that it could be used as a comfort even though they had wanted to use that as a means of breaking him. No, this was much better.

Acastus knew how to make that feel good. He could make Jadon come just from that, without touching him in any other way. But he wanted Rodney to come when he fucked him so he was careful and patient. Pushing in, stretching a little more and a little more. Enough so he would still feel large to him.

"Do you want me Rodney?" he murmured in a low voice, listening to the sounds he was making.

Hard breathing, breaths drawn slowly to steady himself, to try to rein it in when Acastus could see how much Rodney wanted to give up restraint despite that attempt at control. He groaned every time Acastus tipped his two fingers back or forth, and his cock was hard, harder than Acastus had thought he'd ever seen it in their previous nights of touching and stroking and sucking.

Perhaps he had learned restraint. He teased a little more and then moved in. "Face me and slow or face down and hard."

There was a tilt of Rodney's head, and he looked Acastus over again, making the motion with his head instead of his eyes. There was a low noise in the back of his throat, and Rodney twisted slightly to the left, using his heel against the mattress as leverage. "Hard. Hard, I want to feel you tomorrow, better than your fingers..."

Acastus smiled a little and then flipped him properly onto his front. "It will be..." he promised and teased a little more while kissing at the back of his neck, before eagerly lining up, and pressing into his ass, deep and inexorable in a slow but definite movement. "You will feel me for days..."

"Oh, fuck..." Rodney's voice strained, and Acastus could feel him moving, trying to get a position on hands and knees or it seemed like any way he could get traction against him.

He helped him by letting him push his ass up, get to his knees and the moment he was settled, he started to move. He didn't start too slow, he pushed and thrust with gathering momentum and it felt tight, and hot and he could lose himself in the movement gathering pace moment by moment.

It was just he and Rodney in that room, and he'd leave no room in Rodney's head for any other thoughts but them, them and the feel of his cock in Rodney's ass. Rodney McKay, who'd mouthed off to him in the City of the Ancients, who'd lied and tried to deceive, who'd been waiting for rescue and warily agreeing, was now wholeheartedly submitting. Submitting, and pushing back for more, rocking with Acastus's thrusts.

There was something sweet and fine about being there in that moment, bringing someone to willingly do this when only moths before they would've cheerfully killed him.

He let himself loose, thrusting hard. He would feel him a long time to come, and remember what it felt like to have everything to intense, so focused. He picked up the pace even more as he led them to climax.

He set the pace. He set the pace, decided what they were doing and how they were doing it, and Rodney seemed to bloom under that kind of decisive attention. He'd given up trying to keep himself supported on his arms, and had collapsed down onto his elbows, still straining back to Acastus's thrusts. His back was lightly sheened with sweat, and -- and Acastus did expect what was coming, when Rodney's ass clenched and twitched and Rodney went stiff underneath of him, caught between rubbing himself on the mattress and the force of Acastus's thrusts.

The clenching muscles were enough to bring him to his own orgasm, that made him wonder if the lights he could see behind his eyelids then were like Rodney would see all the time. But it was a fleeting thought before he half collapsed over the other man, sated and pleased.

Beneath him, Rodney made no move to get away or move Acastus off. He stretched his arms out, all apparent enjoyment of his submission. "God. Don't ever let me despair of Genii genetics again."

"We have... stamina, I can tell you that," he said keeping his breathing under control. "And...good taste in bed partners." He kissed him again, allowing himself to sprawl like a shield over Rodney. He would be his lover, his confidant, his new roots, his new motivation. All it needed was the right circumstance. A little give, a little take.

Rodney laughed beneath him, head turned as far as he could manage to kiss Acastus back without having to move from beneath him.

It would, very simply, work for them.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Mountains and sand. Mountains of sand sometimes, that's what Afghanistan was and John felt that by now he knew that better than most. He'd been dragged up and down what had to be half the ranges in the country and fallen face down the majority of the dunes and tripped over most of the harsh rocky landscape.

It was an uncomfortable country even at the best of times when he'd been back at the base, complaining that there wasn't air conditioning like the rest of the guys, while taking for granted the fact that he could just reach out and get a drink of something, anything at any time. They complained about the heat in the day, the sharp unexpected cold at night. Their 'friendlies' had laughed and told them that it got far, far colder towards the end of the year. They’d been right, though, he'd never expected to still be here to experience it first hand, let alone out in the wilds.

John should've been shipped back stateside by now. Not sitting here, half lying in their ‘cage’ in the cave that was the current base or stop point for the insurgents that had been their hosts since he screwed up.

Problem was, there wasn't much else to do aside from think. Unless it was bleeding, hurting or dealing with the mind games or focusing on keeping Holland alive. It was probably a bad sign that the hunger and thirst that had gnawed at him with physical pain had long since become something he could push to one side. 

A simple choice of direction and here he was in a living hell, and here he remained. He'd come back for Leo and hell, he should've gone the direction he'd wanted to go even if he probably had been heading east instead of west, because they'd staggered unevenly into a fire fight between two factions of Afghani fighters.

By the time he'd ended up using all his damn bullets up, he might've been able to run if he hadn't insisted on trying to carry Holland because...

Because Holland had a wife and two kids, and he'd lost too many of his friends already to this fucking ‘Enduring Freedom’ and he didn’t want to be the one who walked away and told those kids that he'd left their father behind when he had no one to risk but himself.

Turned out he might've been better off letting Holland die. Least it would've been quick.

He'd lost track of how long they'd been there. Long enough that he knew that they would've been unofficially written off as dead. The Taliban had a bad reputation with prisoners and speaking from personal experience it was justified. The one thing he thanked god for, with irony, was the fact the place was crawling with drugs. Half of them seemed to be walking around with crude opium in their pockets and he was pretty sure it was that which had saved Holland’s life at the start. That and using a stick he'd snagged from a fire near their cage at that time as a way of burning the infection out of the wound in Leo's leg. He thought he'd killed him but he fed him pretty much all of the water they had, and what scraps they got thrown, and Leo had pulled through, though the infection and illness lingered. At least the threat of gangrene had been stopped.

He'd used the same trick a couple of times on himself, because as Leo would say, the problem was he was too damn entertaining to their captors. There wasn't much else for them to do aside from get riled about what the infidel occupiers were doing, and hey, how convenient there were a couple right here. And one of them was conscious, and the other…. Out for the count. It was pretty much a no-brainer who provided that particular outlet for them letting off steam. On the other hand, he knew the best way to take a beating now and get away without broken bones. Always a goddamn silver lining somewhere up in those distant clouds.

He shivered again, pulling Leo in close and trying not to cough and disturb his rest. Evening was drawing in and the chill of the night in the mountains started a familiar crawl in towards his bones.

He could hear the sound of soft voices talking in Persian. He'd picked up a fair bit of the language through sheer necessity. Hamil, one of the older members of the group was pretty laid back as far as people who wanted to kill John went. He liked to talk. Liked to ’educate’ John, and he and another young guy called Zahir were the ones he generally managed to wheedle things out of for Leo through paying attention and watching what got them thinking the right way. They approved of their two captives looking after each other and if one or other of them was on watch, or guarding him, he would have long broken conversations with them where they avowed this was how things should be. That Taliban was all about being a 'Student' and learning and teaching not about running and fighting.

He tried not to say if that was how everyone thought, they wouldn't have them captured, holding them just in case they needed to buy their way out of a difficult situation or needed them as human shields for some location.

He'd tried to explain that they would've been written off, but also he didn't want them to think of them as too disposable. It was pretty obvious they were in bad shape now though. Leo had been so weakened that he had pretty much every infection or illness raging around his body unchecked, though he had some better days than others. Himself? Lost way too much weight. Covered in marks, bruises, half healed cuts and all the rest of it all over but keeping going because that was all he had. He had to get Leo home. That was important, that was his purpose.  
It was what would keep him going through tonight. Jami would be back soon, the leader of this particular band. Every few weeks or so he'd head off to get news from Kandahar and would come back filled with fire and venom from the latest atrocities inflated with propaganda. He would've stewed on it all the journey back and he would've come up with some idea to make them pay. Which translated meant him because Leo generally passed out in the first few minutes because no matter what they did, he couldn’t get that original wound and infection to heal quite right.

There had been that one time when he'd come back describing discussion with other fanatics who had said filming torture or hostages would make their oppressors take note. Somewhere along the line, a digicam appeared from somewhere -- stolen from a journalist who was picking over the carcass of the war action, according to Zahir.

John didn't know if they even knew how to use the damn thing properly, he just knew that Jami and his buddies spent an inordinate amount of time thinking up things to shock the Americans. He'd learned to fear them taking him out and shaving him so that what they did showed up better against pale skin. Maybe they sent the tapes to the U.S command as they threatened. Didn't matter because his realistic side was measuring how long he had in weeks now, and his ridiculously ironclad obsessive focus just wouldn't quit, didn't care about what happened after, like a court martial or whatever else they could throw at him, as long as he got Leo home.

He shifted slightly, still shivering and feeling Leo a twitch fever warm against him. He was so fucked up and he knew it. It was a burning obsession. He couldn't give up because Leo needed him. He had to be the one with hope, that took care of things and John needed... he needed to be needed, he guessed.

There had been that time in the third place where they’d stopped. Some sort of farm and they'd been in a room and he'd been in a pretty bad way after a rough beating, just a little out of it and Leo had been the one trying to deal with him and... he'd been delirious and he wished he couldn't remember how good it had been to kiss Leo. Or to be touched. Or to... everything. But he did. Everything was burning memory, pain and desperation knotted together.

It was afterwards that John realized that Leo would never have done that if he believed they were going to make it. But by then he'd grown accustomed to a new and careful intimacy and he couldn't let it go. He could live without food or warmth, but not without that.

John turned his head at the sound of a footfall of on sand near their 'cage'. Hamil. Thank god.

He inclined his head slightly and the black garbed man smiled a little and spoke in Persian. "You are awake?"

"The night is cold," he replied, trying not to let his throat rasp too much as he attempted the language. It was amazing how much pain and necessity and captivity could force comprehension of a language upon someone.

"It will get colder still." Hamil told him that knowingly, nodding to emphasize his words. "Your companion is not well?"

They could've been meeting on the street in Kandahar or Kabul, passing the time. But John managed to squash his urges to ask him ‘what did he fucking expect’ because this was part of the game. Part of staying alive. Hamil respected him for being civilized, for not being an ignorant westerner beast and that respect had paid off time and time again in life-saving medicines, scraps or water.

"Not well. His strength is poor." John said. He never asked for himself. Never. And because of that, he was given things he did not ask for. "And the night is cold."

Hamil sat down. "Perhaps should it be myself that empties the dregs of our kettle, I might bring them to him."

A rare favor. Even if the sludge of the Turkish coffee they drank was like chewable bitter tar, it would be hot and liquid.

He paused a moment, reading between the lines. To ‘him’... not to ‘you’. Oh… crap.

"My thanks," he replied, deliberately meeting Hamil's dark eyes. "He will benefit from your kindness."

He wanted to add, ' I take it I won’t’ but it seemed a little presumptuous.

Hamil nodded his head again, meeting his eyes with a dark look. "There is news. Jami is returning and the raid was unsuccessful. "

"What happened?" John asked before he could stop himself. Fuck, that was not good at all.

"Your people.” It was how he described any forces in Afghanistan who weren’t them. “We lost Abdhul and they captured Dadvar and Farshid.” 

Hamil was watching him so he watched back still holding Leo to keep him warm. “What will Jami do?”

Kill him. Kill Leo. Revenge for one dead and two other captives. Jami was not the type to be subtle.

”They are his brothers. He seeks to force their release,” Hamil replied.

”Through trade?” John asked hopefully.

Hamil shook his head. “He does not trust them to honor a trade. He believes your kind know only the language of blood and violence. He will use the movie maker and demand their release.”

John looked down, dread and fear filling him and not wanting the other man to see that in expression. “It will not be my companion.” It was a statement rather than a question. They both knew that Jami had a particular hatred for John.

”No.” Hamil replied and for a moment he looked a little regretful. “For this I feel regret, for you have studied well. You have paid heed to our wisdom while undergoing the trials God places before you. You have learned.”

He reached into his robes and pulled out the largest brick of black opium gum John had seen. Usually he was given small tabs of the stuff and they eked it out over time. Hamil offered it to John through the bars.

”For you, to give you strength for the coming ordeal,” Hamil practically whispered. “God is merciful.”

John took it and weighed it in a slightly trembling hand. There was enough to kill himself if he wished. But even now there was that whisper of hope saying he might survive, he might find a way, he might get them out of here because there was no way they weren’t going to end up dead in the next few days because they would not trade for them or bow to pressure.

”God is merciful,” he repeated the phrase and hid the opium gum in the rags of his clothes. Perhaps if he chewed some before, he would make it through the experience and then…then they might think him incapacitated. He could force himself to move after if he had to. He’d done that before. He’d blocked out everything apart from his will and need to move and twisted up something beyond physical strength to keep him going.

There had to be a base somewhere. There would be people trying to track Jami back to his base. They would’ve been watched. Might be people on the way already. If they could last, if he could last they could do this. And he was not going to let them break him anymore. Not now. Because now there was nothing to lose. Even forcing them to shoot him would be a victory of sorts.

Hamil inclined his head and moved away and John wondered if he would be one of the ones torturing him later. He was proof that being a nice guy didn’t necessarily mean that he wasn’t one of the bad guys who had chosen to keep him in captivity for so long. He might give him some food, some medicine but he wouldn’t stop things from happening or let him go or anything useful like that.

He waited for the silence to descend and then nudged Holland. “Leo…C’mon man, I’ve got to talk to you.” He even felt a little guilty waking him but he needed to tell him the plan. If he could call it a plan. Operation ‘We’re completely fucked up’ would be more like it. “Leo, buddy c’mon.”

Holland shifted slightly. “Wassup Shep?” he murmured. “I’m catching up on my beauty sleep.”

”Plenty ugly enough for me,” John murmured back, keeping the rasp of his voice low. “Look, Hamil just dropped by. Jami’s on his way back with attitude in tow.”

That woke Leo up, his expression clearly telling John he knew what that meant. “Oh…fuck Shep…”

Yeah, he didn’t have to explain too much with regard to that. “Yeah I know. Two of their guys got busted by US troops. He wants to make demands. Hamil gave me a lump of opium gum as big as my hand.”

Leo looked at him in resigned horror. “You’re not going to… not after all this. I thought I was the one who turned that way.”

It was true, Leo had been the closest to thinking of suicide but he hadn’t -- possibly because John’d been putting everything into getting him to stay alive.

“No, I’m gonna take some just before they come get me,” John replied as if he was describing some well thought out strategy. “Enough to make me get through it. I’m hoping they might leave me out there. It’s been done before. If they do, they won’t know about the drugs so they won’t be guarding me. I want you to chew some as well… I want you numbed up enough to be able to move.”

Yeah, all that and a pony too.

”Shep, you know what you’ve been like after the other times, and my leg is still fucked up,” Leo said, not convinced at all by his reassuring tone.

”Yeah, those times I didn’t have drugs. Neither did you. “ He absently brushed the hair back from Leo’s face. “This is it. If I don’t get killed tonight, it’ll be you or me tomorrow. And after tonight, I won’t be able to move once it all wears off.” 

”You won’t get killed. You’re too damn stupid and stubborn to get killed,” Holland teased him just a little obviously realizing that hey, John wasn’t as cool with this as he sounded.

John guessed it was the chalky white expression and shaking that did it. “Yeah…” he said finally. “We’re going to make this. Gotta have something go right yeah?”

”John, if you make it and I don’t…”

”I’ve got all the speeches memorized,” John replied, cutting him off. He needed to believe they were going to make it. “To all your family once removed. But I think they’d prefer it if you turned up.”

”You never asked me to do that for you,” Leo replied, looking at him. He had an impressive beard now. John’s was a couple of weeks worth after the last shaving for his film close up.

“Yeah well, got no one to miss me,” John said, grimacing a little as he pretended to get comfortable. They couldn’t understand someone so rootless, so alone. “No point memorizing imaginary messages.”

And that was pretty sad. But it was also the whole point. He had no one to miss him, Leo had a family. Zoe who might have to grow up not remembering her father and Justin, something like 11 now and Leo had cried when he realized he’d missed the birthday he promised he’d be home for.

“If I make it I’ll say nice things to everyone I meet about you,” Leo said and he sounded half serious. 

John smiled a little. He could hear the silence where he knew Leo wanted to ask if he was scared. Of course he was fucking scared. Torture wasn’t the sort of thing you got used to, it just conditioned you to fear. They were going to come and take him and hurt him until he screamed. A lot. That was nothing that was going to stop the shaking and Leo knew it.

”You cold?” the other man asked, moving even closer and stroking down his shaking arm.

”Yeah, a bit,” he said and got out the lump of opium gum. “How much do you reckon?”

”Half of that will put you right out,” Leo said. “Third maybe?”

He dug out a third of it, feeling it sticky on his fingers and gave the rest of it to Leo. “You hold onto that. Afterwards, I might need more.”

Sure as hell he would. 

Leo moved closer as they descended into silence, John unable to stop shaking now despite the fact he was feeling a surreal sort of detached hopelessness. He knew this was his fault. He disobeyed an order. Maybe if they had gone the other way, they would’ve been picked up, be home right now. Maybe if he hadn’t been a screw up and come without back up they would’ve been home right now. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

Different choices, different lives and he was pretty sure this had to be the worst option that existed. He heard the noise when Jami came into camp. He tried to sit relaxed as he heard the roars of approval, or outrage directed at everything not Taliban

He waited until it died down and then looking at Leo, John chewed the gum down accepting a little of their water so he could swallow. He waited until the very last moment, before they came for him to say, “Leo, I’m sorry…” because in the end that covered everything from “I’m a fuck-up” to “I love you” and he saw the other man’s eyes glisten a moment in the torchlight as they lead him away from the cage to where his captors were waiting.

John always wondered what they had in store for him, and they always managed to surprise him, far surpassing his expectations. Not that he bothered much with expectations, because he could think of torture from the medieval to the modern that would have most men saying whatever their captors wanted, doing whatever they wanted.

He was shaved and that was never a good thing, and he felt the slight detached mental cotton wool feeling of the opium settle over him as one of the men worked on carefully cleaning up the face covered with rough scraggy beard. He guessed they wanted him recognizable to the command, if that was where they were sending them. They had to be sending the videos somewhere, and John could imagine that every successive tape was met with the same ‘we do not negotiate with terrorists, but we’re holding out hope’ bullshit that meant that they didn’t have two clues to rub together about his whereabouts, about Leo’s whereabouts. And there’d probably be anguished interviews with, oh, right, _no-one_ about his missing state.

They were fooling themselves if they thought it would get them an exchange. But that wasn't the point.

It was dark and they'd turned the jeeps in a loose circle so that there was an area that was well lit. His hands were tied like normal and he was pushed down to his knees while Jami began a long rambling set of demands to the camera. He saw people gathering and glanced over.

Oh god, they'd brought Leo out.

Leo was supposed to stay tucked away and safe and not be exposed to the elements like that, not be put through the paces because John was putting himself up for that treatment, nigh on volunteering so Leo was left relatively alone. But he wasn't shaved, and he was still dressed, so John took that as a good sign. At least one of them might get away with it.

The opium made the lights fascinating, even after the demands had finished. He glanced up and tried not to flinch from the group of men surrounding him, holding their selected instrument of torture. Long wooden staves, soaked in water. He'd had no idea why these was bad until he experienced them doing more damage than being beaten with a metal rod. Okay, he'd try and fight a little. If they were going to beat him to death and have it filmed, he wanted some courage to be there. Something, so someone who watched it would think, hey that guy, he didn’t embarrass the US Airforce.

Not that anyone would care. So after they'd yanked off his top, leaving him the ragged pants, he tried to catch and side step the first swing.

Except that he was outnumbered and probably in sheer hand to hand skill, he was out-classed. Screwed and up a proverbial creek, and there was no way for him to fight them off once they got him down, except he could raise his hands and arms and shield his face, except the skin there was thinner, softer, and shredded more easily.

The opium he'd chewed made the experience faintly surreal. He knew it was agonizing. Hell, he knew he was even screaming at times, but it felt... distant. Like his mind was standing apart a little, and there was light and sharp bursts of pain and the slickness of blood all over him but his mind was padded from the trauma his body was undergoing..  
He'd heard them talking about them snapping spines with staves like this and he rolled and curled and fuck, it was never going to stop. And he could hear Leo yelling, practically screaming and yeah, it wasn't going to be good, but that was why he had taken opium.

That was why he'd been given the drugs. He listened and he was patient, and the escape of the opium gum was a little like mercy, a little like god going easy on him for being an infidel. He was still going to die, sure, but it could be worse, it could be all screaming agony for him and not just for Leo watching him, because he was pared off from it, twice removed from the wet sharp smacks of soaked wood against flesh.

In the end he was down, sand and dust mixing with blood, caking him in a clot filled clay and he was down and he stayed down, the lights dancing around him. There was the light of the camera close in his face, scanning over his body and he hoped that was it. He really hoped it would be because he was sure this wasn't going to be something he came back from, not this time. 

More diatribes to the camera and then orders and... something else.

People moving, a chatter of conversation like it was interesting, like they were all excited, and something that he would die like the thief of a nation that he was, that all Americans were, and that made him want to roll over and get to his feet and move through the pain.

Later, he needed to do that later. But right now they were lifting him and there was...wood and ropes and they were tying him to something, his hands untied and drawn apart. He was making sounds of some description and he could hear Leo yelling something about 'mother fuckers!' and wasn't really focusing on what it all meant.

It meant, it meant he was still alive. It meant he was still alive and his eyes were wavering, and the very air around him was drifting, shifting, and he was pulled upright so he could see it all the better than before, so he could get up, get higher than hands and knees and the jeeps that lit the area.

Higher than everyone else, looking down and as his weight settled and pulled at him he felt the pain cut through even the drugs. 

"...fucking crucified him!" he heard and he found it hard to breathe as his body weight hung down in the ropes, still bleeding but now holding him in a deadly position. He couldn’t manage to get air in his lungs, and there was no logical reason why he couldn’t, nothing that struck him that he shouldn’t be able to breathe, because it wasn’t like they were water-boarding him, or plugging his nose and mouth.

He could just about push himself up. Get a breath. Feel his muscles shake and bones scream in protest as he dropped again. Then he'd have to do it again and he was going to die. Going to die because he couldn't breathe rather than bleed to death, or a bullet to the brain.

Voices were close beneath him. Talking as if the filming was over.

"He will die if he is there all night."

"But I said that is what we would be doing." Jami's voice. 

"But they will not know if we lay him down." 

"Then lie it down and tomorrow we will film in the same place."

He pushed up, muscles shaking while he tried to suck in another quick hard breath of air, cold, biting air. Then he was being tipped back, and all he could see was the sky and the stars and it was huge out there, dark and full of twinkling lights and stars that spun and wheeled above him. Somewhere else in the universe, someone else was having as shitty a day as he was.

He wasn't sure who it was but the opium made the stars fascinating above him even as the headlights turned off. Then he was lying flat and oh god, everything else was secondary to the fact that he could breathe again.

He could hear Leo still swearing at them and he closed his eyes because it was pain was penetrating through the drugs and he must’ve drifted a little.

He opened his eyes again to a cold empty night. 

There was a blessing in the opium, the way that time shifted and slid, and sometimes it could slow, but something’s he sped up and exploded out and that was where he was just then, because it was as dark as pitch except for the stars and he was shivering, sure, but he could breathe, still, and he pulled at his hands carefully, trying to see if he could move. 

There was some slack there. His weight on the ropes must've pulled them looser and now he was flat there was some give. He wriggled his arms, knowing he was making sounds of pain but he tried to keep them quiet. One arm free... God alone knew how long it took. Long enough to for his eye and face to swell dramatically. Ow. Okay there was another... another arm free.

And he only had two arms, even if they weren’t working right, so that meant he was free. Free, if he could get to his feet and get Leo and keep moving against all sanity and all expectation of human strength. He was just a little cog in a big huge wheel, but he was a cog that was gunna fucking move.

He let that thought drive him, twist him up with need. Because.. .he knew enough, could feel enough to know this wasn't going to be something he was going to survive, after all this time. Fuck. Last chance. He let himself wind that strange intensity of will up into something hard and inflexible and then used it to pull himself into a miracle of movement.

He dragged himself out of the ropes. Crawling, though his legs weren’t really working. Thank god they weren't watching here. Too far from the fires, and no way he could move so no need for guards. Had they left Leo out here? He was somewhere... somewhere to his left. He started a painful dragging crawl that way. Bits of him weren't really working. He wasn't sure what, but some things were broken, busted, not cooperating, and it was only through the grace of drugs that he managed to move, to keep moving, to achingly drag himself towards Leo, because if he stayed still on the cross, he was going to die. He might as well die trying something.

"Shep? Holy fuck..." That was Leo and he was focusing now and hey, he could see him tied to some sort of post. "How the hell.."

"Drugs. " His voice was a little slurred even to him. "We gotta try it."

"Jesus, you're, I saw them..." Leo leaned forwards, trying to help, twisting his wrists together, and John didn't know how he'd get him untied. He had nothing, nothing sharp to cut with, just his fingers.

"I was there..." he managed, pulling at the rope with numb fingers. Crap. He ended up biting at the damn stuff. "Fuck."

Chewing at rope. He felt like he was some Disney movie pet. But at least he had his eye-teeth, even if they ached with the motion, and he wasn't going to just give up, wasn't going to let a chance slide past them because he still had some dignity left. Dignity was worth shit if he was dead. They were going to get away. "Okay, okay, I think I can..."

Leo pulled his hands free. "Okay, I'm...yeah... okay."

John swayed slightly, even crawling. "Leo, I'm on a limited time here. We gotta go. Can you drive?" He could hotwire a jeep. Hell, he could hotwire a plane but he didn’t see one of those handy.

"Yeah." Leo looked weak, shaky, but he could move his hands and suddenly he was the one pulling John up, which was not what John had expected and he nearly ruined it all by wanting to scream, but he didn’t and they did need to work together. Even the dark, they could at least see one of the jeeps, and they probably wouldn't have to hotwire them. After all, the keys were probably still in the ignition. Who'd steal a jeep, way out there, from the Taliban?

As Leo hauled him bodily towards the vehicles he flashed back to the first day when he'd been the one dragging Leo around. If he’d insisted going the direction he’d thought then maybe he wouldn’t be facing his death right now. Killed by a faulty sense of direction. Kinda ironic considering he could plant any shot, and bomb right on the money.

They were half crawling or walking to the jeeps and they picked one on a slope and he crawled in not even shutting the door properly "Just let the handbrake off, we'll roll and they won't hear us..." he said coughing slightly. There were sharp pains in his chest and stomach even now, stabbing at him every time he breathed, penetrating even the fog of opiates.

"Yeah... I know how to drive a car," Leo whispered quietly, and he did just that, once John was in the passenger seat and Leo was in the front seat.

Thank god they'd been held on a mountain, because they rolled down the rough track in comparative silence. The sound of a jeep engine would carry in the mountains and they had to be as far away as possible before they started up.

Every rock, stone, hole they hit as they went down the track made jolts of agony hit him. He breathed and he felt like there was something bubbling in his lungs and the taste of blood in his mouth. The drug started to fade and he was barely able to say... Left or right, east or west. He was remembering the direction of the stars. Remembering how he had figured the direction to Kabul from the sky. He knew how to navigate using the sky. The ground he found a little more tricky, especially bleeding like that and with Leo's driving.

"Your driving sucks," he managed as they swerved to avoid another moonlit rock and he jolted against his seat belt and there was a fresh taste of iron in his mouth when the burst of pain left him. "Hamil... Hamil talked of a road ... running east west to Kandahar. In the valley."

So if they headed down long enough they would end up on the road. Head to Kandahar. There would be troops around.

"Yeah, I'm not gunna argue east or west with you this time." Leo still whispered, hands clutched tightly around the worn-down steering wheel. Silence and fear, because if they were caught out before they could get far enough, if they were caught again at all.

They'd both be dead. He couldn't live through anything else like that. They put him up on that cross again, he'd die.

The jeep was still rolling, the problem being keeping it slow enough to stay on the track. The moon was really bright, or that was the drugs, he wasn't sure but he couldn't pass out yet. Just in case.

He leaned forward and was unsurprised to find a handgun in the front. He picked it though he’d be lucky if he could point the right end at the bad guys.

"Gotta be some of our guys around."

"We need something white. To tie to the jeep." The international sign of please don't fucking shoot us, because even John knew, remembered, the friendly fire incidents that'd happened. It wasn't much wonder.

"Don't... have anything," he managed. He twisted trying to see what was in the back and felt everything getting a little dizzy, and his legs feeling weird and numb. Best he could find was something that looked like it was a ratty blanket that was... sort of pale.

"Got this..."

"Tie it to the roll bar. When we hit the valley, I'm gunning the engine." There was a container of gasoline in the back 'seat', so John was confident that if no-one fired at them and he didn't die, they could possibly reach help. Possibly was better than never.

"Okay..." It sounded easy to just do that, but some of his fingers weren't working right and then, fuck, he nearly dropped it, but he got it on eventually, coughing and tasting blood in his mouth as he settled down. He was beginning to think he'd nicked his lung or something. 

He hoped when they did start the engine, the Taliban would assume it was someone else driving from the city and not get too nosy. "Your..opium holding out?"He asked conscious that Leo’s leg had a tendency to fold after too much effort.

"Yeah. Only took a little, or else I'd be DUI. Not that a state trooper is gunna pull up behind my ass, but, hey." Leo slipped one hand from the steering wheel, other hand still tight knuckled. "Never expected this. Could be one huge hallucination -- here, take the rest."

"How...how far is it? How long?" He needed to know so he could time when to take it and maybe save some for Leo. "My time sense is fucked up..."

“Hell if I know. That would mean that I had some idea of where we actually are, and nothin' looks familiar." The curving road met with the valley, and Leo seemed inclined to let it coast as far as he could get it to go before he finally gunned the engine on.

"Took a lot before.” John pulled at it. "Don't want to OD before we get rescued." They were heading the right way but the jeep was slowing down now as the road planed out.

John wasn't sure if it was fear or relief he felt when Leo pressed on the gas and the engine rumbled to life and started to drag them forwards on the road again. "Yeah. Yeah, Jesus, we could get out of this alive."

"You mean...you doubted it?" He asked, trying to stay vaguely conscious. "I made a promise Leo. That you'd see your wife and kids again."

He could hear the engine rumbling, and it was hard to stay awake, hard to do much more but melt back into the seat. 

"Yeah. But everyone says shit like that. No-one actually means it."

He did. He always did. He took that sort of promise seriously. "You think I've been keeping going for any other reason?" he asked, conscious his voice was cracking and fading out on him. Goddamn it, let him at least see Leo safe. Was that too much to ask? 

Just to carry out the rest of his mission, just to get all the way through it without some huge bitter irony happening to him for once in his life. He got the point already, nothing worked out according to plan, except just once, John wanted it to work according to his Not-Plan.

"You wanted to live, yanno."

"Yeah, well I'm kinda attached to the...breathing thing," John replied, nearly gasping and feeling fluid rumble in his lung. There were things he wanted to say like 'I think...I might've fallen in love with you,' or 'Leo, I don't think I'm going to make it' because breathing was getting harder and he was so cold he couldn't shiver any more. But what was that going to do except screw up what Leo thought about him after? "Not feeling too good here..."

"Going as fast as I can get this piece of junk to drive, buddy." Leo's voice sounded unsteady, too, but John would push it harder if he could, would get them somewhere that they'd be found. Why couldn’t there be rangers in the area looking to capture two guys alive, and happily find out that it's just them, the MIAs.

He coughed again and the dark smear over his hand meant he couldn't ignore it any more even as he panted for air. "Gotta...gotta tear in my lung." It was probably broken ribs numbed to hell by the drugs nicking it when he moved. Either that or some internal bleeding in his gut. If he was really lucky it would be both.

"Fuck. Fuck, just -- just keep breathing, okay?" He could hear the engine gain a little speed, a little more urgency, or maybe that was wishful thinking.

He let his head loll back and an indeterminate amount of time later, second, minutes or hours, who knew? - he was woken by a jolt that made him want to scream through a mouth filled with blood, and Leo swearing beside him sounding frantic. 

Great, they were now going to have survived to die in a car crash.

"Hey, hey, we're American! Don 't shoot, don't shoot, don't fucking shoot!" The brakes hit hard, and John couldn't help the noise he made when that hit his body, jarring and hurting him in ways he didn't even know he could be if he was seat belted in.

It made him whimper and he'd been out long enough for the drugs to wear off and now he knew exactly why Leo had been looking at him like he was more believable as a reanimated corpse. Everything hurt and he gave a choked scream as they stopped by skidding and thumping into something else. He coughed and thick blood spilled from his mouth as he struggled to breathe.

Next thing he knew, someone cocking back a trigger in his ear through the window.

"American! That's Major John Sheppard, and I'm Colonel Leonard Holland and we're injured and if you shoot us your captain is going to wish you'd shot him, too, so..."

"Holy shit. Is he alive?" the soldier holding a gun on him asked.

John rolled his head a little and choked out very weakly. "I'm alive." They'd been found. That mean Leo was going to make it. And he was...he was in so much pain now he didn't know what to do.

But he was alive, and hopefully they had a vehicle that could get them to a base quick, or maybe even a corpsman. He really wanted something to stop the pain. 

"Yeah." Leo's voice was mellow, harsher to John's ears than he'd heard it for a few days. "Yeah, barely. They got careless torturing us."

"Let’s get you guys out of here," the commander of that unit said as if he realized what this might mean for them all. "What injuries do you guys have?"

They were already moving, trying to get hold of him and it just felt wrong. Things were broken, battered and strained beyond repair and he couldn’t hold back crying out, even when they were trying to be gentle. He knew they were but... god, he'd look a mess right now.

"They tried to crucify Sheppard -- he's coughing blood, probably broken bones. I'm just sick and, look, get someone to look at him first." They were getting them both out of the jeep, and John could hear the Commander on the radio, calling back to base. Probably planning to take them back.

"Fucking bastards..." he heard the soldier say and then they were moving him and things got more than a little hazy after that. Fragments of voices, blinding pain, struggling to breathe and the feeling that he didn't know where Leo was and he'd known for months that he was within arms reach.

Somewhere in the traveling he was trying to wake up and the thought of being alone had him nearly in a panic. He was reaching out blindly then, looking for someone, anyone.

"Easy guy, easy guy... " It wasn't Leo, it was some voice he'd never heard in his life, and there was a hand pressing down in his shoulder, and fuck, that hurt.

He thought he was trying to say, "Where’s Leo..." but he had no idea how it was actually coming out. And that pressure there was enough to get him to try and flinch away. "Where... ?"

"You're on your way back to the base. We're almost there, and this helicopter is a sweet smooth ride, so you'll be fine!"

Helicopter. He missed his. "Miss mine..." he said randomly. She had crashed down due to that unlucky shot. He coughed again and all of his chest hurt. "’s been...long time. "

How long had they been captured? More than six months. Long enough to see spring make it to winter.

"Yes'sir, but you'll get back up in the air someday, we'll make sure of that. Just rest." Rest., yeah,. like he could rest when he hurt like hell, when everything ached that bad.

"Leo?” he asked as he heard and felt the change in vibration that meant the helicopter was coming in to land. "He's...been really ill. Gotta get him home."

"We'll get you both home, sir. Don't worry. We'll just get you stabilized here, and then you two are probably on the first flight out to Ramstein airbase. The command thought you were dead."

He tried not to laugh at that because somehow that amused him. "They're not the only ones." He was like Leo, he wasn't convinced this wasn't some big hallucination... and...shit, if they gave him morphine there was a chance they might OD or something.

"Had...opium...a lot. Don't let them... " He couldn't stop the coughing then and the result was him trying to curl up in agony.

"We found it on you." There was no recrimination, though John had a blurry thought that they’d probably try to detox him and rehab him 40 ways to Sunday after the debriefings that might go on for forever. "We're hoping you're not really gunna miss it."

John tried to think. Leo had had the most. He'd given it to him for his leg and they hadn't had that much from Hamil. "Didn't have that much...friend gave me that...because of what they were planning..."

They were down, and then there was light and the down of the rotors winding down even as new people poured in and started talking medical babble over the top of him. He just wanted to know where Leo was. Why wasn't he on the helicopter. Or was he?

"Where's Leo?" he tried again. "Where's he...should've brought him too...is he here?"

"He's in the second helicopter. We decided to clear the unit out of there after we found that nest of Taliban just east of where you were." And hopefully there was some heavy duty bombing going on.

Hamil and Zahir were probably dead and in a weird way he was sorry about that. Not that they hadn't been there, doing this to him and to Leo, but they had been different to the members of the group who were pretty much sadistic psychopaths and mentally unstable. They believed in something that possibly wasn't that incompatible with sanity.

He hurt too much to care. Someone was pulling at his dogtags which he’d been allowed to keep only because when they did come to kill him, it would've been a way for them to prove who he was. He guessed they were looking for blood type.

"We've got multiple fractures arms and legs...broken ribs and a pierced lung. Lack of response from legs, possible spinal involvement. Possible pneumonia complications… watch out for a pneumothorax... Massive blood loss and contusions...careful..."

Wow, put like that no wonder he felt crap.

"Careful, there we go. I want him on an IV, stat, no painkillers just yet, get an anesthesiologist and -- yeah, move move!"

Anesthesiologist meant surgery, looking for holes to patch up inside of him, maybe, and he was probably gunna feel more like crap before things ended.

He held on even as they were being taken out of the helicopter in the early dawn light, just long enough to be able to twist his head and see Leo being carried out of another helicopter over to his right. Then, with the familiar smell of high octane fuel convincing him he was actually not hallucinating, then and only then he allowed himself to let go.

* * *

There had been a very long period of time when he just wasn't aware of what was going on. Right now, John was starting to think that things would be easier if he returned to the blissfully ignorant state.

Somewhere along the line he had multiple surgeries, grafts, his own permanent bed in the ICU for way too long and then from all accounts, to pretty much everyone’s surprise he started pulling through.

Pretty much what he remembered was pain and not-pain before they got him off of the drugs.

Now he was stateside and their apparent mission was to "rehabilitate" him. His muscles were atrophied, and he couldn't damn well walk properly and there been some spinal complications as well.

The best part was that they all tsked about how he had to have been mistreated to have gotten to that condition, and John just wondered what drugs they were on because he knew he was lucky to still have a beating heart or his head attached to anything in his neck region. His muscles were a mess, sure, but he'd made good on his promise and he'd gotten Leo out alive. And once he came out on the other side of physio, the Airforce could take him back and do whatever they wanted with him.

So here he was in this military hospital up somewhere in Colorado Springs and rattling around the place with a load of other injured and recovering servicemen. Leo had lucked out; a few weeks of antibiotics and building him up and he'd been shipped home, his treatment routine enough to be taken care of on his home base. 

That had been the worse thing. Not having him there. Lying alone at night because he couldn't shake the feeling that if he couldn't see him it meant he was dead, or dying or something. He needed to call pretty often just to keep that under control.

Afternoon time, time for group physio. The guys were pretty cool down there. Some dealing better than others. He still felt a bit like he was an outsider but that was nothing unusual. He'd reached the point of being able to navigate the wheelchair down there himself and he set off early to do it. Sometimes he ended up getting there early if he was having a good day. Like today. 

Nobody here. Unless it had been cancelled and no one had told him.

It made him wheel himself a little more slowly, craning his head a little to see what was or wasn't going on. He didn't like empty spaces, any more than most of those guys liked to see unattended boxes or things sitting around. 

Huh, maybe they had changed the time or something. Sometimes they did that if their physio Bruce was off for some reason. Still, he'd come all the way down here, just sitting looking at the equipment seemed a waste. He moved up to the parallel walk bars and looked at them. They didn't like anyone using them on their own because if they went down, and John could face that he went down a lot, there was no one there pick them up.

He decided to wheel himself closer to them, close enough that if he did go down, he'd be able to drag his ass back into the chair. After all, he was used to not having anyone there to pick him up, and he damn well had the stamina to get from the floor to his chair. His chair was padded, all nice and tricked out like someone thought he planned on staying in it for a while.

John might’ve seem laid back about everything and okay, he tried really hard not to be a miserable patient because it wasn't the doctors or nurses fault what had happened, but he wasn't going to get comfortable sitting around on his ass for too long. 

He rubbed his legs a little to get the muscles loosened and then went for it. Pushed himself up and...hey, he still had that nifty trick of disassociating the pain so he knew it was there but it didn't stop him.

A few steps. No so hard. He'd crawled with broken bones for fuck's sake.

The medics had thought he was crazy, and that probably explained the once a week meeting with a 'mental health practitioner' or whatever he called himself. But he did it, and caught onto the bars with his hands, clutching tightly. Sure, the muscles burned, but it was a good burning.

He'd done harder, he kept reminding himself of that. After the Taliban, pretty much everything fell into a category of easier. He exhaled and stepped feeling the muscles shaking as he rested his weight on that leg for a moment. He'd walked carrying Leo some days, even apparently with the pneumonia they'd both had and hadn't really noticed against everything else.

Another step. Hey, he was on a roll.

"Hey, man. Where's your spotter?" The sound of a voice in the empty room almost hade him hit the ceiling, but he knew he should have heard the sound of palms on wheels, of wheels on carefully cleaned flooring.

"Just asking myself that," John replied managing to keep his voice low and easy. Another step. Matching his personal best to date. "Looks like the place had cleared out."

Four, he could go for four. And he recognized that voice. Mitchell.

"Yeah, it was bumped up to tomorrow at 0900. Bright and early." He sounded like he'd moved closer, but John didn't twist, didn't look. He could probably get across the bars faster on his hands, with his arms, than he could actually putting weight on his legs like that. "So, what happened to you?"

Wow, conversation opener. Unless he just meant, why didn't you get the message the session was changed. He took another step and his legs were shaky but they held and he smiled. "You mean that got me here, or why I missed the time change?"

"Either, both." Mitchell flashed him a smile, all teeth and half-turned on charm, and he leaned forwards a little, watching John. "I came down here anyway to do just what you're doing."

Next step and his leg was buckling. Okay. Had to get back to the chair. "Had a head shrinking session before lunch and didn't go back to my room. Missed any message." He literally hauled himself back to the chair. "As for the rest of it... buddy got shot down, I went after him, got shot down, caught by the Taliban, held as prisoners for about 9 months, escaped after they got careless in a torturing session."

He made it sound easy, he knew he did but what else was he going to do? "How about you?"

"Shot down. Messed up my spine pretty good, but I'm a month away from walking out of here." He shifted, leaning forwards and up to grab the bar nearest to him. "Wanna spot me?"

"Sure," John said pleasantly surprised. Usually when he said that he got the 'oh, you're that one' comment or look. He had a bit of notoriety going on.

"Mitchell right? Name's John Sheppard. Pretty much everyone called me Shep." He wheeled himself around to get a better look at the guy. He'd walked away pretty clean, considering from the look of him.

He looked healthy. Then again, John didn't know how long he'd been there, like that. Maybe he'd been shot down back at the start of Afghanistan. and time wise... That was a long time. Felt longer, for John. "Shep. Yeah, I go by Mitchell, Cameron, Cam, 'hey, you'..." He grunted when he pulled himself upright, using the bar to get to the start of the piece of equipment.

"Well ...Cam, you look like you know your way around this stuff better than most of the physio's. Been working at it long?” he asked and he had to practically pull himself back from wanting to push into a more friendly zone. He had two modes at the moment, neither of which he was happy with. Arms length, isolation or max factor 'cling'. Pretty damn undignified.

There had to be a middle ground again, but he wasn't sure how to keep it from falling out from under him.

"Yeah, about a year." There was another tight mouthed grin while he got into position, and rested his weight on both legs, standing. "My commander told me that if I get mobile again, I get whatever billet I want."

"There's motivation for you," John replied not actually sure what he wanted to do after. They hadn't broached that topic yet in the head shrinking. "Got something in mind?"

He mentally probed at the thought of the future a little uncertainly.

He wanted to fly again. He wanted to get back to flying, but that was it. Full stop, that was all he knew he wanted to do, because he didn't have anything in his personal life to go back to. "Yeah. Yeah, I have a posting in mind. They're based locally, and it's an amazing unit." He lifted his leg up, and put one foot down in front of the other with more speed than John thought he'd ever do again.

"Truth is, I haven't thought too much about what happens next," John said conversationally. "Kinda wasn't expecting to get that far. I like flying though. I think people who don't are crazy."

Mitchell gave him a smile, and clutched tight to the railings. "Yeah. Yeah, they are --I love flying. I want to get back into the air, flying one of those beauties as soon as I can. When you get a little further into therapy, ask someone about what comes next. They like that."

"Yeah? Any other tips?" John asked watching Mitchell moving. He shifted his wheelchair so he was facing the other man heading towards him, looking down the gap of the parallel bars. "Because right now I'm probably flunking my psych exams."

He warmed to Mitchell immediately. Someone who loved flying was his kind of person.

And enough of the guys who were there were injured from transports, support personnel, that there weren't too many flyboys in rehab. Usually, John knew, they ended up dead. Either you ejected, or you crashed to the ground and your body incinerated in the jet fuel. "Don’t worry about the psych exams. Just, if you want to get back in the air, you have to work for it. And show them you want it. Otherwise you'll end up behind a desk, and is that the kind of life you want?"

"Hell, no." He said that immediately without thinking and he surprised himself. "So, what's your favorite set of wings?" He was watching Mitchell, impressed at the steady steps that he made look easy.

"Huh. I had an F-16 once, and I loved that thing -- the noise of it, and it responded just... just right. There's a more experimental craft I flew, and I want back in it, shot down or not. Hell, the fact that one of the two of us lived is a testament to the build quality." He turned, pivoting slowly between the bars, hands not touching the metal as if he were daring himself to go that much father.

"Experimental huh?" Sounded interesting. "I've flown pretty much something of everything on...pretty much everywhere. Haven't made it to the South Pole yet though. My Black Hawk in Afghanistan was a sweetheart. She had a tendency to pull a little but...they've all got their quirks. She'd never let me down... up to the point some weapons fire took out her tail rotor." He was surprised at how closely he was watching the other man. Lean muscle, easy smile and then intense concentration.

He tried not to. He tried to not get tangled up in the one surefire thing that would kill his career more than sleeping with a superior officer's wife, and that was eyeing said superior officer's ass. But Mitchell had his back to John, and he was all focused muscle movement, legs steady and strong looking. It was enough to inspire John to want to get up and try the walking thing again. 

"Ain't that the way of it?" Mitchell stood for a moment, halfway down the walk, and then took another step forwards. "You did Kosovo, too?"

"Yeah. Seen a fair amount of action," he replied in a laid back drawl. Cameron, he noticed was the same. Laidback and calm in what had to be the most frustrating of circumstance. He wasn't looking at a year of rehab, so he had to admire that. As well as Mitchell’s ass.

He had a good point, too. If his whole life was Airforce, and flying, why be shameful about it? It wasn’t that unhealthy to know what you wanted, what a man could actually have, and go for it. He admired it in Mitchell, no question. "What'd you fly?" He reached the far end, and stopped, didn't turn around yet.

"F-15," John replied. "She was...a little more temperamental but when she worked, she flew like a dream. " He remembered the rush of take off, of riding the wind. The actual job he didn't think on too closely, but the flying...the flying had him buzzed just from the memory. "You okay there?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm just trying to get them to keep talking to me. Legs are a funny thing -- you take them for granted until they stop working." He shifted one foot, and this time he pivoted with his hands on the bars.

"I found that with, uh, pretty much everything," John said and he was looking at Cameron again. The concentration on his face. His eyes, his lips…"Never realized how much I used my damn thumbs until I had one splinted up."

"That's a bitch. Hey, what ward are you on? If your thumbs are working, I'm always looking for someone willing to take me on in Halo." He started to walk forwards again, the same slow measured steps of before.

"You're on," John replied. "After they let Leo go, I...don't get much in the way of visitors." None in fact. Rest of his unit were still out there, and there was no family to come knocking and he'd never made friends outside the Airforce. "Gets pretty boring.”

Things were looking up.

"Yeah, I know how that goes. My family's pretty big, but they can't afford to live out here just to keep me company while I convalesce. I've got an uncle who keeps saying I'll stop faking it any day now." Cameron grinned, but John could see the concentration that putting on foot in front of the other took. "I think I'm just about done now."

"Not surprise, you managed a hell of a lot more than I did," John said watching him head back. "If you don't mind the company, I know I don't."

"Great." Mitchell stopped at the midway point, where his chair was, and clutched the bar to duck under it again, and he lost of his footing a little, slipped and jarred his arms.

Without even thinking, that twist of unnatural intensity was just _there_ and John was up and had made one, two, three steps over to him to take hold of him, make sure he didn't fall.

It happened before he could even think and then he was just standing there when his body told exactly why that was a stupid idea, but he didn't fall because that would've meant taking Cameron down with him and... what the hell was wrong with him? He knew he must've looked as shocked as Cameron did.

Cameron uncurled his fingers slowly from the bar, and with John's help, reached for his chair, got close enough to get his hands on it to pull himself towards and into it. "Jesus."

Okay, now he was stuck. And both his legs were going into cramp at once. John half lunged for his chair, pretty much falling into it as he hissed in pain and massaged at his legs. It took him a moment to get his breath back. "I...wasn't expecting that."

"I wasn't either. That came out of no-where." His eyes were a little wide, and he was staring at John. Yeah. That was why they were only supposed to play on the equipment when they were supervised.

He looked over at him trying to find words to explain this weird mental freak-out he had. "I have this thing..." he said awkwardly. "Apparently I conditioned myself to ignore my own condition. Or something. There's some long psychological names and I think Dr. Fiori is writing it all up as a paper or something, but if there's the right trigger I just...react."

"I bet Dr. Fiori is having a hell of a time." Mitchell sat back in his wheelchair, and laid his hands on the wheels. "Damn. Damn. You scared the hell out of me."

What could he say to that? "I...apologize. I didn't mean to freak you out. I guess that means the Halo game is off..." He looked down at his leg and kneaded at it some more. He hadn't realized quite how isolated he had been, how desperate he'd been for someone aside from doctors and nurses to talk to just because they wanted to talk to him. Leo hadn't called in...over a week.

In over a week, and that had him all messed up when he knew it shouldn't. "Nah. Just, the last time I saw a guy do something that... past common sense? Well, it's been a while." Mitchell shifted, clutched his hands on the wheels. "C'mon. I'm near the elevator."

Okay, so he wasn't blowing him off. That was good. Relief must've spread over John’s face and he tried for a nonchalant tone. "Cushy. Give me a while and I'll kick your ass." He smiled again. "Might take a bit of practice though."

"I've had a year of that and playing flight simulators and reading. It's gunna take a lot to kick my ass," he grinned, and wheeled slowly towards John. "C'mon. I think we did our physio for the day."

"I think you're right...it's going to kick my ass tomorrow," John said and followed him out of the physio room. Cam was a flyboy like him, and that was good enough. At least they had something in common.

It was a start.

* * *

He could see it from the inside out, the outside up and in again and he could reach for the man who was hanging on the cross, he could reach for the bloody battered figure, but he couldn’t get him down. He couldn’t reach for the ropes, couldn’t get him down, and he was a smiling skeleton, smiling down at John with bloody teeth and weeping eyes and Leo’s face.

He hadn't manage to stop them, somehow he hadn't been there and he was dead...god...maybe he was dead.

It was impossibly real to him. He was just certain this had happened.

It startled him awake with a incoherent sound, his heart pounding, and with a cold sweat. He checked the time. Still early evening. Early enough. He'd just call, say ‘Hey buddy’, and let Leo’s voice tell him he was okay and leave him alone.

Fumbling he reached for the phone, Leo's number pretty much second nature to him by now.

9 to dial out, 1 for long distance, area code and then number, and John curled onto his side in bed, clutching the phone tight while he tried to get his breath back. He'd always thought it was a funny saying, getting your breath back, but these days when it went, it went, it took a one way trip somewhere that wasn't John's chest.

The phone picked up after the forth ring.

"Hi, it's Sandy?" Not Leo and the anxiety stayed knotted up inside.

"Hey Sandy, it's John. Leo around?" he asked trying to sound normal.

There was a break of silence that stretched too long. It left him clutching at the phone as if it were a lifeline. "John. John, Leo's around, but... He really doesn't want to talk to you. "

He was stunned into his own silence for a moment. "I can... I can call back later if it's a bad time," he said just praying to god that he had to be misunderstanding what had just been said. Just an inconvenient time, not how it sounded. “It’s...I guess it’s later than I thought."

"No, no, it's -- John, every time you call, Leo spends the next day or two all shaken up. Talking to you takes him back there, and we're trying hard to get him grounded in being home again. It's not that he doesn’t appreciate what you did, John, just..."

"...He doesn't want to talk to me..." John finished the sentence and he was hollowed out and emptied by the words. "He does okay...when I don't call right?" He needed to know. He needed that... trigger because there was no way he could get through it without knowing that. There was no hint of hesitation or even arguing what it would mean to him personally, how unfair it was to ask this from him. He needed Leo, Leo didn’t need him and just like that he was being asked to sever what felt like a limb.

"Yeah. Yeah. He starts to get grounded again, but then you... call, and I know you need something from him, John, but he just can't give whatever you're looking for." Her voice was tight with worry, and no hint, no idea of anything that had happened between them.

Being crucified hadn't hurt so much. "Okay." He swallowed a little. "Yeah, okay. I'm...sorry Sandy. I get it. I won't call. I just wanted..."

He wasn't even sure now. Something he couldn't have. "...to see if he was okay. Just... let me know every now and then will you? Please?"

God, he sounded desperate. Totally desperate.

"Sure. Sure, of course, John. Maybe... maybe you could write. I don't know. Something less intense than the phone." She was letting him down easy, and now he knew it.

Which mean he was never going to see him again. If the phone was too intense. And he'd been imagining Leo being there when he managed to walk properly again. Going out having that beer finally, all the things they talked about in those mountain. Imagined all sorts of things and... 

"Yeah...maybe." He said aware his voice was rough and out of control. "Sorry to disturb you Sandy. Have... have a good evening."

"You, too, John." And then the click and the quiet pause before the dial tone flooded his ears, before all he could hear was that and his own breathing, and fuck.

He should've just given up. Died or something. Part of him wanted to be angry, really violently angry, clamoring that this was selfish and didn't he owe him? What about all the things he'd said? John had kept all his promises, what about the ones made to him. It didn’t matter what he needed, what nightmares he had and what being without Leo there was going to do to him. It didn’t matter.

He needed some air. Really...really needed it and...fuck. 

He almost violently pulled back the covers and got himself to his chair. Who the hell would come look for him? No one.

So, rolling up, out, wherever he could go for fresh air was a great idea. He needed air and wide open spaces and the sky, and maybe that could calm him down, clear his brains out.

He wouldn't make it to the roof, no...so...if he could sneak out through on of the side door, he could make it into the grounds and there was a spot that was out of the way that was pretty good. He could make it there.

He set off, oblivious to anything except getting out there.

His first thought was to hit the roof, because he wanted to see the stars. He wanted to see the stars and be above the lights of the city, above the incessant glow that clouded the sky. Except he knew damn well that they didn't have an elevator go to the roof, and they kept that locked up tighter than anything because if someone wanted to kill  
themselves because their wife left them or their legs were fucked up, the roof was the first place he'd think of going.

But John just wanted... out. Out, so he worked his way determinedly through the hallways, waiting out the elevator ride down, waving vaguely at a nurse while he headed out to the gardens.  
He wasn't even sure if she saw him but, that didn't seem to matter much just as long as he got outside.

It was dark and there was definitely a cold nip to the air, a sharpness that reminded him of the mountains in Afghanistan. He wheeled his chair away from the lit paths over to the hidden patch of lawn he'd found.  
He stopped in the middle and pushed himself up, walking away with determined steps and then just decided where he was was good enough and sat down, lay down and looked upwards.

He could see the stars. The last time he had lain back and looked at the stars had been when they'd tied him to that fucking cross and he'd been high as a kite on pain endorphins and opium. Which probably should've killed him and right now, he more than half wished it had.

He didn't cry; it wasn't something he particularly tried not to do, but he hadn't cried throughout everything that happened, or with frustration, or anger like so many others did in physio. It was just something that made him feel weirdly embarrassed, but it felt a little like he wanted to in a vague and unhealthily distant way. But he couldn't.

There was no law saying Leo owed him anything. He'd never promised that things might go on, or even that they would be friends of any description but he'd hoped... Well, hoping was a stupid habit as well.

There was a restless seething instinct to hurt. Get into a fight, try to kick the crap out of someone or get that handed back to him, but he wasn't able to do that.

Over and over it came back to a completely devastating sense of loss that just had him lying perfectly still, looking at the stars with dry eyes.

"Hey." Hey, and yo, and that was how Mitchell started most of his conversations, like he was firing off a warning shot at John so he didn't startle the hell out of him. Or whoever he was talking to, and it made sense since most their physio group had PTSD or something like it.

He could see the stars, and hear the sound of wheels sliding over the grass. "Nurse told me you were trying to make a break for it, Shep. Looks like you didn't go too far."

"Nowhere to go," he replied, still lying there and staring upwards. “You should go back inside Cam, it's cold."

And he wasn't sure how long he'd been out there now. Long enough to get absolutely nowhere fast, he knew that much. He didn't want anyone there because he might get angry, get weird with them and Cam was pretty much the only person who was talking to him right now. He didn't want to fuck that up.

"Following that logic, you should go inside, too. Cold, and all that." He could hear Cameron smiling at him when he wheeled a little closer.

"So... You wanna talk about it?"

"No," he answered truthfully. "You probably shouldn't be here. I'm..." His mouth twisted slightly as he found the words that he borrowed from his therapist. "...not 'in a good space' right now. Seriously, I’m probably going to be shitty company. That isn't going to help you much."

Just like Leo.  
"I don't need help," Cameron told him decisively. "Seriously. I'm coming out the other side of things. So don't worry about me reacting to your 'bad space' or whatever."

What the hell. "You know, the last time I did this I was tied to a cross? I was pretty high at the time but... " John stopped, not really sure what he was trying to say. "It's something stupid okay? Something I know is my problem and... I'm too damn lazy to really do anything about it otherwise I would've worked out how to get to the roof after all."

He was silent a moment longer even as Cam just waited patiently for him to get the words out. "You know my... you know Leo? You know how... "

He just couldn't find the words and his hands were shaking as he gripped the grass between his fingers. "I had a nightmare of being back there. And this time it wasn't me being crucified it was him and I woke up... pretty fucking freaked out and it was like having a flashback and for a moment I really wasn't sure what was real. So...I called him."

He was silent again. "They don't want me to call any more. It's...it's not good for him. I'm...kinda not dealing with that too well."  
There was the sound of metal shifting, creaking, and then Cameron was getting out of his chair to sit down on the grass, too. "That sucks. I hope they have him in therapy."

"Yeah. Yeah...he's got therapy and his family." And John had...nothing. Making Leo a reason to survive, to keep going might've worked in Afghanistan but back here it was incredibly dysfunctional. Especially the whole love thing which, okay, he'd known hadn't been real because Leo never really felt that way about him otherwise he wouldn't be lying here.

John had held onto his promises like they were some sort of sacred vow. Perhaps he should've realized when Leo said that about never expecting him to keep the promises. Perhaps that was what he would do.

"He'll...be okay."

“Yeah. But what about you? You’re still here, getting physical therapy. What about you getting better?” Cameron leaned back on his hands and tilted his head up to look at the sky. 

John shrugged a little. "I can't think of a reply to that that won't sound like whining," he said after a while. "Or self-pity and they put out some sort of alert if there's any sort of hint of that going on. They'd have me strapped down on suicide watch before I could blink."

"Nah, it's all about how you do it." He was gazing up at the sky like it was something he did all the time, like he wasn't indulging John. "Put a positive spin on it."

"A positive spin on having my motivation to keep going yanked out from underneath me?" John asked twisting his head to look at him a moment. "I kinda adjusted my focus to him, and I haven't been able to get it back. It's all part of the ...Thing."

The Thing was something that had become a bit of a standing joke between them even if it was deadly serious. They used it to cover pretty much everything abnormal about the way John just sometimes reacted to things in defiance of his bodily limitations. Sometimes it was cool, other times it was...dangerous and disturbing.

"Think you can adjust your focus to be... I dunno, you? Because Leo's okay right now. He has a lot of people helping him out, right? And you don't have enough."

He thought about that for a moment, more seriously than he had when his therapist instructed him to try to do that somehow. Whatever twisted inside him wasn’t going to untwist.. "Nope. Don't know how it happened in the first place." He looked at Cam and he just wanted to...do stuff that would be really really inappropriate with a superior officer.

Or anyone who was a friend. Cameron was trying to be a friend or a mentor to a fellow pilot or something, and John wanted to respond to him sexually. He wanted to lean forwards and push him down onto the grass and make him smile in whole new ways, and that was fucked up. Fucked up and all John Sheppard, no Taliban influence there.

"You have to find a new focus."

His hands were clenched so hard, he wasn't sure that he wasn't making his palms bleed. "Cam... you ..." Hell why did he suck so badly at this? And that couldn't be a normal reaction. He was so fucked up he was even shocking himself. "You better go...really. I think I'm getting a bit fucked up right now and if you stay I'm probably going to do something really stupid."

"And if I go, you'll probably do something really stupid. Look, they have the roof padlocked forty ways to Sunday. I know this personally." He didn't move, just looked over at John, and John could feel his eyes on him. "You need something outside of yourself to focus on, right? A higher purpose, someone else, something else?"

He needed to be needed. All his therapists fancy words and notes pretty much boiled down to that. He wasn't stupid, far from it now he'd started doing math again just for the hell of it after he found some equations a bit screwy on one of the rec room boards. "Yeah." Something that wasn't going to give him a hard on and get him booted out of the one thing he had left.

"I think. I think I can do that for you. But it'll only work out if you can get yourself back up to speed. I'll need to get one of my buddies to look at your files, if that's okay?" That was, that was a little out of the blue. "Because if that's what you need? There are places in the military that need you."

"You know...technically I disobeyed orders going after Leo..." he murmured. "There might be things they don't want to find in there. Not gonna hold you to anything Cam." He pushed himself up a little. "But I really appreciate it. What you're doing. Seems like you’re doing all the hard work."

"I've worked under a commander who didn't seem to know what orders were or how to follow them. He's amazing." Cameron's expression shifted a little towards what John almost wanted to call puppy doggish, and then he tilted his head back to look at the skies. "I'll see if you qualify. I mean it. You want something that needs you back, this'll be it."

What other choice did he have? There was literally nothing else and for a nice guy who got on with most people, it was a sad thing. And Cam was helping him for no real reason aside from being a good guy. "Guess I better qualify ,huh?" he said unable to stop himself looking at him with what he knew was too much attention.

"I bet you will. So." Cam shifted slightly, glancing at John again. "How about we stop soaking up dew with our asses and go back inside?"

"Guess coming outside wasn't my best idea," John replied trying to get up. His body hated him for getting cold and moving was not easy. He made it to his knees and just paused a long moment looking at Cam.

He had to know. But he wasn't interested.

He was probably completely and twistedly straight, but at least he wasn't screaming at John or freaking out. He just started to try to get up, and didn't have a problem using John to steady himself a little. Maybe he was just the oblivious straight type? "Probably not. You're not getting back to sleep anytime soon, and I'm sort of restless, so how about we get some food and fool around with games until you can wind down?"

"Sure," he replied and it was a distraction, and the hurt wasn't going away but he was avoiding it. Maybe he'd just been talked off the lawn instead of a ledge but it felt about the same. And he was going to try and get this urge to just throw himself at people under control somehow.

No-one, John knew, was going to be particularly inclined to throw themselves at him in return, and he'd only mess his life up worse. Other people had done enough of that already, so maybe Cameron had the right idea.

Maybe Cam could help John find a new reason to go on.

* * *

In his spare time, Cam told the nurses, he read science fiction.

It was true. Every waking moment he had privacy, he sat back in his bed and read from the slightly light-bleeding screen of his laptop. He read everything, from reports to memos, to mission statements, to proposed missions that never went anywhere. He had to, had to learn and not just learn but understand, really process and comprehend every report and every nuance implied in it if he wanted to jump into it with both feet when he recovered.

He wanted to be a part of SG-1 - who didn't? Now Jack O'Neill was finally a General - because how many times did you have to save the world and galaxy to get a promotion after all? - there was a space for him. And he didn't want it to be a pity place, he wanted to be going out there, through the Stargate getting things done.

And the more he looked into it, the more he was sure that Shep would be ideal for something. Maybe flying 302's. He seriously needed something because okay, he was working at getting better, saying all the right things but he knew the guy hardly slept, and food was something he would forget about without too much trouble.

Both signs of depression but because Shep smiled, even joked a bit he was sliding it past everyone. He would've missed it himself if he hadn't've gone through it himself and hidden it the same way.

There was a knock on the door and Jack wandered in as if he just happened to be passing. "Hey, Mitchell, thought I'd drop in. Steal your grapes or... popcorn or whatever you've smuggled in here."

"Maltballs." Cameron reached for them, tucked under his second pillow, and he didn't bother to close his laptop screen because O’Neill had written or been in most of those reports, one way or another. "They're pretty sure that in another month, I'll be out of here."

Jack more sprawled on a nearby chair rather than sat. "That's pretty good going considering they said you'd never walk again.” He glanced at him a moment and stole one of the candies. "Could use you around, or someone who knows things like... basic common sense. You'd be amazed what most of the teams manage to do to themselves. "

"I've been reading the reports, sir." It was hard for him to not smile as he looked sideways at O’Neill’s relaxed posture. He didn't sit -- he poured himself into the damn chairs. "It's a damn shame. But I'm doing the best I can to get out of here. Met some interesting people while I was here, too."

"Oh yeah? Seem to remember you complaining about how boring everyone was. So I sent you files and one of my fishing rods. Had the two inch deep pond they’ve got out there stocked with really thin fish," Jack replied with a twist of a half smile.   
"So thin they slipped through the cracks in the soil, sir, looking for bigger ponds." He sat back, head leaned up against the headboard. "The files, though, I appreciate."

"So, interesting people huh? Interesting as in..." O’Neill left the question dangling looking at him expectantly.

He knew that playing it down key would help lure General O’Neill out. "Well, I've got Physio with a guy who was a damn good pilot. Shot down in Afghanistan, spent some time as a PoW. To be frank, sir, I think he's the kind of soldier you look for."

"You mean too crazy to do something normal?" Jack suggested, as he picked up one of the models Shep had built in one of their rehab classes and not so much given to Cam as a gift as purposefully left it in his room with no explanation. He guessed it was John’s way of saying thank you without actually saying thank you.

That was how John tended to do things. He’d had a big cat when he was a kid who did that with dead things.

"Yeah. No family to speak of, and his friends were his unit -- and they're all gone." Gone, gone in the permanent sense. Mostly dead, Cameron knew, but there was Leo who wasn't. Even if the guy probably _wished_ that he was dead, and that Shep hadn't gone into hell to try to drag him back. "He's smart. Masters in Mathematics from MIT."

And god alone knew where he was with it now. He was messing with Math now the same way someone else would pick up a crossword. Said it helped get his head together.

"Smart is good," Jack admitted. "PoW huh? And not... completely crazy? What's the story?"

Only Jack could get away with that sort of political incorrectness as he had pretty much been there and done all that ten times over. Cam knew he'd been a PoW, been shot down a few times, crashed, gone a bit nuts on a few occasions. Sometimes people wondered about his quirkiness but Jack seemed like the sanest man Cam knew. Considering.

Considering the rest of them. They were the best, though, and that mattered more than outward appearances. The action, the sheer bravery, not the quirks.

"He put his focus on getting his buddy out of there more than he did himself."

That got a look. He knew he had O'Neill with that one. "And what happened to that buddy considering that you just said they’re all gone?"

"He's alive. Safe, back at home, with his wife and his kids. He, uh, he's sort of creeped out by Sheppard's intensity, and he wants to distance himself from anyone involved in what happened." Cameron shrugged. It was just one man's coping mechanism, different from their own.

"Sheppard... I think I've heard the name," Jack mused. "Crap, he wasn't the Crucifixion Kid was he?"

What a thing to be recognized for. At least his was a bit more heroic than that. The Antarctic Ace had a certain ring to it.

That was torture, that was what they tried to reduce you to when they captured you, or when your plane went down, and it took a while to shake off. "Yeah. Major John Sheppard. That's him." And he wasn’t sure what O'Neill had as a preconceived notion of Shep from what he already seemed to know. Shep was a little closed mouthed about what happened over there, just letting bits slip here and there that made it obvious that the torture that had nearly killed him hadn’t been all of it. But he was always going to be remembered for the fact they hung him on a cross and tried to crucify him.

Jack just nodded. "And you want me to get his classified ratings right up to the top, and let him into our exclusive club. Why? You feel sorry for the guy?" he asked slipping deceptively into hard questions.

“No sir. Because we could use more men who’re willing to take a mission to the limits. If I just felt sorry for him, I wouldn’t particularly feel comfortable knowing that he might be on the gate team that saves another gate team’s ass. Sir.”

Other people might take offense but Jack O’Neill really didn't care a lot about that. "Yeah...Gate team or flyboy? Because we're pretty short on both."

He seemed to be responding as positively as Jack ever did, even if he did steal another malted ball as he asked the question. That was all right -- Cameron bribed a pretty hot nurse to get them out of the nurse’s vending machine on the fifth floor for him. If the General ate all of his maltballs, he'd just have to suck it up and talk to her again, and that was such a not-chore.

"Take a look at his record -- he does pretty well on the ground or in the air. I'd kind of angle him towards foot duty, if I were making the choices." And Cameron knew they were short, and he knew that more people were going to die or be lost in the coming months, and if they had just one more guy who had the right kind of stuff, the right personality that he'd endure, well.

How could anyone say no to that?

Jack smiled a little. "My arm is twisted. I'll take a look... but, no guarantees. He sounds okay, seems to have proved himself. I might just drop in on him as I'm here, say hi."

He moved as if he was going get up and then reached in his pocket and put out a bag that was full of chocolate. "I remember it was harder to get some of this stuff in here, than it was to get it in a prison. I'm impressed with your resourcefulness at getting any at all."  
"I have contacts." Cameron winked at the General, but reached gratefully for the bag. "It's all health food here, all the time. It's enough to make you miss base cooking, sir."

Jack looked at him. "Okay, you're right, it's time they let you out of this place, because you're going nuts." He shook his head. "But I shoulda known that from the fact you want to come talk to me. When you get mobile, I might just get you to bring your buddy up to Cheyenne. Assuming I like the look of him. Get him to run past the medical team there. I'm a little happier about their medical judgment over things."  
"That's because the sgc sniped all the good ones out of the hospitals," he agreed with Jack, as matter of fact as he could manage to sound. "I appreciate it, sir. And that you just dropped in since you were in the area."

"Just passing. I could've been looking at a large pile of paperwork. That would've been fun," he said. "You get there Mitchell. I'll see you up at the SGC in a couple of weeks or so."  
"Yessir, you will." And Shep, as soon as he could manage it. He'd have to explain things to him a bit, without stepping anywhere near to breeching security clearance, *or* making himself sound like a complete crazy.

He watched as O’Neill had smiled a little and wandered out the door as casual as if he hadn't really come all that way just to see him. He just hoped Shep was in a slightly more upbeat mood than he had been because Cam was positive that it was the right thing to do, to get him involved. He needed something to keep him going and so what if it wasn't the most well adjusted thing in the world that it wasn't about him. It would do, because he would make it work. He was pretty sure about that.

* * *

There was a soothing quality to doing equations. Cam had persuaded his counselors that a whiteboard would be a useful therapeutic aid for him and rather surprisingly, he was right. He'd asked for some texts and had been surprised how easily it had come back to him because it was easier to think about that than how much it still hurt to be alone. Because he wasn't. He wasn’t alone and he just had to convince himself of that, and see where this little equation was taking him because the thoughts were cool and flowing like water. 

He hesitated frowning a little and then squiggled a few figures.

It was starting to make sense, but perhaps not enough. He was heading towards something, carrying his thoughts forwards in mathematical gestures and symbols, thinking hard on old theorems that he remembered. He probably should have done some in his head when he was in captivity. He might have come out the other side in better shape.

Maybe if he'd done that instead of rewiring his brain to function totally differently, he might not be like this right now.

He was fighting it, but he could feel himself flailing around trying to latch onto *someone* and so far he was really having to fight the fact he was wanting to do that latching with Cam. It was ironic that the one thing he probably needed to talk out the most was the one thing he couldn't mention under any circumstances. To anyone.

One hint of inappropriate sexual behavior... yeah.

Yeah, the only thing he had going for him in life would be taken away, and he'd be dishonorably discharged -- or if they took pity on him, honorably discharged -- but out was out, in more ways than one. 

Which left him with Math and the hope of flying again.

Leo... Leo hadn't written. Not even a line and neither had John because if he wrote _anything_ it would be more desperate than he would've liked. 

_Hi Leo, hope the recovery is going well, mine isn't because I can't sleep thinking about you, I'm so goddam stressed I have a possible ulcer and food is a chore and I remember all the things you said and promised and they were all lies...~_

Bitter and twisted. Twisted, huh. How about if he twisted the formula a little... 

Not straight forwards, and not elegant, but he could prove, prove something. Work through something.

There was a rapping at his door, and then a pretty unfamiliar voice saying, "Knock knock."

He managed to turn carefully. One of the reasons he used the whiteboard was to encourage himself to stand a little more. He hoped it wasn't another new doctor who wanted to look over him top to toe again.

No, that was no doctor. He didn't recognize the man, so he pulled up his best smile. "Hi...I'm guessing you've got the wrong room?"

All he could see at first was part of a blue suit, and a man with grayed hair, even if his eyes looked pretty damn lively. And then he went and pushed the door open and left John wondering just what planet he was on, because that was a General standing in his doorway. "I don't think so? You are Major Sheppard, aren't you?"

"Yessir," he replied automatically aiming for a salute that nearly unbalanced him. He ended up rather embarrassingly reaching to grip at something so he didn't fall over. "Sorry sir."

"You don't have to stand at attention at my account." He shoved his hands casually into his pockets as he stepped into the door, and subtly kicked it closed with his heel. "In fact, I'd try to avoid standing at attention in those pajamas. I'm General Jack O'Neill."

"Cam's...Colonel Mitchell's soon to be superior officer," he said as recognition dropped into place. "I've heard a lot about you."

He did ease himself back down into the chair out of sheer necessity. His muscles were burning.

O’Neill’s eyebrows went up slightly, and he smiled in a way that John could only categorize as odd. "Oh, I bet you have. What he could say without worrying about getting his ass in a sling. He mentioned you, Sheppard, so I thought I'd stick my head in."

John gave a half smile back and gestured to a seat. "I'm kinda not used to having visitors. Especially generals. So far, I've had pretty much no generals here. So what was ...Mitchell saying about me?"

"Well, that you're looking for a unit when you get out of rehab. You could go back to your old billet, if that's what you want to do, but I..." He looked like he was thinking about what he was going to say, before he offered anything to Sheppard more than a hello. "I have a pretty free hand when it comes to moving people around."

"My old billet..." John twitched a wry smile,"...pretty much doesn't exist. We lost two just before Leo and... then I guess with Leo and I MIA it was easier to split the others up and reallocate them. " He hesitated a moment, looking at O'Neill "I wouldn't want you to move me around just on Cam's... Colonel Mitchell’s say so. I like to earn the spots I'm in."

"Oh, believe me, if you pass the security requirements, you'll be earning it." The General wandered closer, and finally did sit down, perching on the edge of John's bed. "It's not a desk job. We're pretty much looking for the kind of men and women who are capable of rescuing themselves and others from a dangerous situation. Possibly after being crucified, but I have to say I've never seen that happen before so it’s not something on the application form."

John nearly laughed. Everyone skirted around that issue. "It's not the sort of thing they do in basic training. Though you could probably change that if you wanted to... Leo was the one that drove us out of there. I was pretty high on opium most of the time. Don't remember much."

A lie. Of course he remembered it, but it made other people uncomfortable so he just said that.

"Don't sell yourself short. You were written off as dead. Having been written off as dead more than once myself, I can appreciate that in a soldier. But you're not gunna be a charity case, you got that?"

John looked up at him and met his eyes for a moment. It wasn't just words, he could see that he'd really been there. He could understand a little of Cam's hero-worship now. "Yessir," he replied. "I just would've thought you would have your pick of people. Although, Cam said you might be able to get me in the air again. If you can do that, I'll sign any waiver you've got."

There was an odd curl to the man's mouth. "Yeah, I can get you into the air again. Or better. We'll talk about it more when, if, your security clearance comes through. And you're right, I do have my pick of people. I know what I'm looking for in an officer. Now, you disobeyed orders. I know that much. But there's a time to listen to them, and there's a time to... do what you did."

John looked at him and decided to be honest. "There are some who would say...the disobeying orders was the real issue. And they reckon I've learned my lesson. Truthfully sir? I still do it again. Even knowing about all this..." He gestured to himself.

Not acting would be unbearable.

"Why would you do it again?" The General leaned forwards a little, elbows on his knees, watching John like he was waiting for an answer. There seemed to be a right answer and a wrong answer just then and John only knew the one that had settled into his gut all those months ago.

"Because I made a promise to him... Because I couldn't be the one safe while he was out there...because it was the right thing to do." John said and tried not to think where that had got him. "Does it really matter? Fact is I couldn't've lived with myself if I could've saved him and I stayed safe instead."

"That's the part that matters." It seemed like that had been the _right_ answer for the general, but John guessed that he'd find out one way or the other pretty soon. "So, if I can get you through all of this, and you can get on your feet again, are you interested?"

"Cam couldn't tell me much, but I guess if it might involve some flying I'm there," John replied realizing he was pretty much committing to something blind. “And I'll get through all this. I'm getting there. We've reached walking already. Next week I could be sprinting."

"Shoot for climbing trees," O'Neill drawled, "it's more useful than you'd expect. The post involves a lot of everything. You seem like the jack of all trades..."

John shrugged a little "Grew up an airforce kid. You kinda get to be self reliant."

That was an understatement. Constantly moving around, his Dad hardly ever there, his Mom...well, yeah. Actually getting into the Airforce was like finally being allowed on the inside of a family he'd always wanted and never managed to have. "Don't like getting ...bored, but Cam gave me the impression that's not something to worry about."

"You might find yourself wishing for boredom." The General shifted, and John knew that he was going to leave, ducking out of the rest of the visit. He was probably busy, busy and there in uniform, so it wasn't exactly a social call. "So can I count you in, if you make the clearance?"

"Sure, I'd appreciate the opportunity sir," John replied remembering his manners. "And thanks for taking time to come see me."

He didn't know if he had made any sort of impression but it was better than flying a desk.

"Hey, not a problem. You just... keep on working on it, and I'll be around." He did stand up, and stuck his hand out to John to shake. "Good to meet you, Sheppard."

He leaned forward and shook his hand, privately astonished at actually touching someone voluntarily, and watched him leave then, a little stunned at the visit. He'd been here a long time and he hadn't had any visitors and then he rated a general?

Magically, out of the blue, and it made John wonder just what Cam had told the man about him that a general would just show up and... offer him a spot.

Either he'd been talked up or they really were desperate.


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

John was a little amused by Cameron as they finally made it to the SGC. He'd been up before, been out longer but had dropped back in to see him a lot. Even so that last month had seen him suddenly desperate to get up, get moving and be fit enough to get out of the place. So he was walking okay now, even if he didn't have the fitness he wanted and then Cam had turned up beaming with his clearance and promised him something better than all the rides at Disney land.

Currently they'd made it into the depths of the ‘SGC’ as Cam called it and John was noting all the ranking brass as they walked the corridors.

He wasn't used to seeing them that thick on the ground. And they kept passing the odd civilian, which was also fairly note-worthy. "So, you have the top top security now. I can tell you what this place is about while you get your checkup and cleared through. Also, if you get any phone calls from say, childhood friends, girlfriends, asking why men in suits came to talk to them... this is why."

John half-smiled. "Most of them are in the forces and I don't have any family left. So it was either a really quick job, or..." He shrugged. "Okay, you lured me in, what's the big deal?"

Cam looked for all the world like he was about to share the best secret in the world with John, like he could barely hold it in. "The SGC is an international endeavor, to get you started. It's Stargate Command."

"...Stargate?" John paused a moment. "Okay, I'm going out on a limb here and assuming that's not a fancy way of talking about deepspace telemetry like the blurb says."

Stargate? Was he stepping into science fiction? Hell there were rumors about this sort of thing, about some of the more black ops groups, about some of the weird shit a friend of a friend or someone's army buddy had seen before... But Stargate? 

"There are gates -- wormholes, actually -- that allow us to travel between planets. We've even sent an expedition to another Galaxy." He didn’t say that quite as lightly as he said the rest, but his smile didn't falter. "So yes, I mean real space travel. Real jets that are space worthy. We've had *two* hyperspace vessels. The Prometheus was destroyed but the Asgards have helped us build the Deadalus..."

John resisted the urge to say, 'You're kidding!' or anything as trite as that. He just looked at Cam a moment trying to take that on board. "Back up a bit there... we have space worthy jets?"

Focus on the important things there.

Things like flying without gravity, things like mastering *new* ways to fly. Cam nudged his shoulder gently, walking him through towards a doorway. They'd been following the yellow line on the floor, and that was where it curled into. "Yeah. Yeah. F-302s. They're beauties."

"...Very cool. So, another galaxy huh? And I thought the Asgard were Norse gods?" The wormholes, now that he could understand. They were theoretically possible at least, though god only knew how they were stable ones. All of a sudden he was seeing clues on uniform badges as they went past.

They were from different countries, and there - SGs over numbers, and Cam was wearing one with a 1 on it on his shoulder, in addition to the American flag that John expected. "You know those aliens in movies that're all about anal probing?"

"I really hope you are joking," John replied and saw Cam’s expression. "You're not joking...Is it too late to back out?" He grinned a little. "Grey guys...Roswell grey guys are the Asgard? I reckon there are a few vikings who are going to be a bit pissed about that."

"Their military leader is Thor." Cam's eyebrows went up a little as they ducked into the mutedly noisy infirmary. "I'm thinking that at the _time_ they knew what was going on. They're a really peaceful people, and they're definitely one of our best allies."

John nodded. Okay, he had to admit it, he was feeling a bit of a rush though he was sure some of it he wouldn't believe until it actually happened. "And this..." he tapped at the patch on Cam's arm. "SG-1... what's that about?"

"Gate-team one. It was General O'Neill's unit, before..." Cameron shook his head slightly. "Well, you'll get the full story in time. The whole command is full of amazing people, and what we do really makes a difference in the world." And there were jets and space aliens who helped them, which seemed to imply there were bad space aliens, because if there wasn't, John doubted they'd have a special program for it. 

"Doctor Marx! I decided to escort your new victim in personally."

"Oh good, because I don't usually get to see you come in here willingly," the doctor said as he pushed up his glasses and headed over with a clip board. "He's a devil for forgetting his off-world med checks."

"I can imagine," John said looking around the place. It seemed busy.

"Have a seat a moment. We have to do a full blood test and establish some base level normals for you," Dr. Marx replied. "You've probably had them done a million times I'm sure but we've got a few specific ones."

"He's going to ask for a sample of everything." Cam paused, following John towards the bed that Marx was directing them towards. "*Everything*. I wish I were kidding."

"Well if only I'd known I would've done some before I came," John drawled.

"I need your shirt off Major Sheppard, I need to attach these monitors," the doctor said and John hesitated a moment. He'd managed to hide the most of it from Cam but... that was stupid. If he had been a part of this they would've seen his file and he knew they had pictures of him from every angle. If they went so far as to talk to people who'd been his friends once upon a time, then they were damn determined. Hell, they probably knew how he swung. 

Cam took a backstep, peering around the interior. "Hey, Marx? Where's Biro? Did SG- 4 come back all right?"

"She’s just giving them the once over... why don't you drop in on them? It's going to take a few minutes to do all of this," Dr. Marx said and John slowly undid his shirt. The doctors said the scars would fade eventually, but right now they were all too obvious.

In time. He had time, as long as he stayed alive.

"Yeah, I think I will." Cam nodded to John, and leaned in to clap his shoulder. "I'll be back in about 30 minutes to pick the tour back up, okay Shep?"

"Sure...if I've got any blood left," he replied easily and watched Cam wander off. Then John slipped off his shirt and watched as the doctor raised his eyebrows a little and then checked over his file again before moving to take blood samples. 

"Not even properly out of hospital, then, and they've got you here." He tied a short length of elastic around John's upper arm, and guided him into bending it and making a fist and John really knew all the steps himself already, but if he volunteered to tie his arm off, he knew the Doctor would look at him sideways. "I hope you know what you've gotten into."

"Not in detail, but I got the impression it's pretty dangerous," he replied. "From the looks of this place you get a fair amount of traffic through here."

It was a large, well equipped infirmary with equipment he'd never seen at the Colorado Springs military Hospital. Blood drawn, what seemed like half a dozen vials and then he stuck on more cardio monitors.

"Everything from parasites, radiation poisoning, Sarcophagus survivors, to good old gunshot wounds. And a lot of screening for teams when they come off world. We've implemented a lot more regulations than there used to be, since we lost the Atlantis expedition. You can't be too careful, now. Which is why getting a good baseline for you is very important..." 

He couldn't help it, his attention prickled. "Lost the Atlantis expedition? A big expedition?" He didn't even know who the threats were out there yet, let alone all this history they seemed to have.

John was just someone wandering into it, getting bits and pieces, like watching a TV series in the last season and then having to backtrack to get the background that would, hopefully, make what was going on make sense. "Some of our best. It's been over two years, and there's been no communication with them since. They entered the city of Atlantis safely, and that was the last we heard from them. So most of the security protocols that you might eventually find abrasive are in place because of them."

"So... you couldn't go after them?" John asked slowly. So he was sensitive to the issue of leaving people behind; that was something he was always going to have. "The city of Atlantis? ...I think I've got a lot of catching up to do here."

"It's going to take a while. There are... It starts with the Ancients. Think of them as highly advanced humans. Our ancestors were still eyebrow high in fleas when these people were creating flying cities, cities that floated on water, you name it. We're evolution take two." Marx threw him a wry smile, and almost staidly took John's pulse. He was really expecting some kind of machine to do it for the doctor. . "I know it makes me feel better about myself.."

"Second models can usually get upgrades?" John suggested. His vitals were decent. "City building ancients so...Atlantis? Are we talking about one of their cities?"

It couldn't be on Earth because they would've gone after them. And if they had ships then they could've gone after them as well. "Is this in the other galaxy thing?"

"The rumors of the City of Atlantis are based on fact. They fled earth due to some plague, to the Pegasus Galaxy. We used a pretty unique power source to open a wormhole to the city, and the expedition went through. They knew it might be a one way trip, because we didn't have enough power to open another wormhole. The hope was that on the other side, there'd be some way of contacting us. One of my best friends went on that expedition -- he found the ATA gene that allows certain humans to interact with ancient equipment. We lost a lot of our brightest on the Atlantis mission. For a program that was strapped thing to start with..." Marx shook his head. "I'm just damn glad Biro didn't go, too. She's amazing at nano-surgery. If you ever get something blown off in the field, be sure to pick it up and bring it back."

"...yeah, that's comforting." John looked at the doctor. "Your friend found the ATA gene? I haven't even heard of that yet. Cam...Colonel Mitchell hasn't said anything about that."

A one way mission, lost and abandoned. Friends missing. That trigger was never going away. Just the mention of it had that intensity inside of him twisting up like some sort of coiled spring.

It made his nerves itch, ache. They were just gone, and he didn't know how many people, but one or one hundred, it was too many people to just let them fall away like that. "He's probably trying to ease you into it. Speaking of, I should test you for it... Hold on, let me fetch something."

"Sure." He watched as the man went over to the other side of the Infirmary and picked up a few things. "So Doc, how many people have this gene thing?"

"It's very rare. In the whole SGC, we maybe have..." He shrugged his shoulders loosely as he approached. He was holding a small orb in one hand, a smooth metal orb that could have been aluminum for all John knew. "10? There were more, but they went on the Atlantis expedition. And out of all of them, the two strongest geneholders have been General O'Neill and Doctor Beckett. Most of the rest can barely get something to function even if it’s been initialized."

He joined the dots. "Doctor Beckett being the one who was your friend right?" He looked at the item. "So... that’s some sort of scanner to detect the gene?"

"I wish." He laughed, and held it out to John. "It's a dead homing beacon. Dead because it's been deactivated. Hold it."

"Just what I always wanted." He took it from his hand feeling the metal and something just not quite normal about the texture.

"I'm not even sure that General O'Neill could get a rise out of that one without some effort," Dr. Marx was saying. "But it's the only piece of Ancient tech I have here. We've got blood tests that will..."

Something seemed to click, gently and easily in his head and the sphere lit up, vivid and bright with blue light. John just stared at it and it seemed to *want* to show off as it opened up and then rose into the air hovering above his palm.

"Did I do that?"

"Yes. Yes, you... My god. Colonel Mitchell! Was this some kind of trick you were trying to play on me, bringing a ringer in?!" Marx twisted a little, but he was still watching the orb, more than John. He didn't seem *scared*, more in awe.

"Hell no," Cam said coming over at speed. "You've been holding out on me Shep. That's the strongest response I've ever seen!"

John could feel the sensation in his head, like the moment when an equation cascaded towards a solution in his mind. A real rush. "Is this a good thing?" he asked as he idly wondered what else it could do and it proceeded to start projecting starchart locations in the air.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's a damn good thing." Cam -- Mitchell, John reminded himself, he needed to think of him as his commanding officer now, because he was. One of many -- sucked in a breath, watching the starcharts. "What're you thinking of?"

"I just wondered what it could do. It's a bit more sophisticated than just a homing beacon I think." John blinked a little. "What should I be thinking about?" There was something seductive about the technology. As if it was actually happy to be activated. As if it wanted to sink into his mind, as if it wanted to interact, needed to interact, and John understood that, the softly humming lure of something that responded and made him respond.

"Think about... think about anything. Think about where we are right now, in the universe."

He'd never had a problem visualizing things and the star charts blurred and refocused on the familiar solar system, and then zoomed out a little. He had a vague thought of where the Pole star was and instantly different routes appeared to get there. A planet with a string of unfamiliar symbols, several tracked routes through space glowing overhead. He actually laughed. "Interstellar GPS. Gotta get me one of these."

"You turn it on, you use it." Cameron didn't sound chiding, though, just stared at it. "The symbols? Are the gate address to the planet nearest to what you're visualizing, or maybe what you're visualizing. Although I didn’t expect you to be thinking of planets just yet."

"Well, I just uh...was thinking about the North Star and vaguely where it was," John said. "So...this is new to you guys?"

From the gathering crowd around the bed, he guessed so. John tried to unobtrusively cover up with little success. He didn't particularly want people watching him when he was like that, didn't need their eyes on him, except...

That they weren't. They were staring at the lightshow that the alien GPS was providing.

There were upsides to this technology after all, although he realized from the rapt looks of most of the scientists there that even if he didn't want to sign up he wouldn't be allowed not to. If people who saw alien planets and artefacts every day could be mesmerized by this sort of thing, he guessed it had to be important.

"There's been a little something like it... General O'Neill.. .he activated information from a variety of devices and Carson... Carson could do it with some effort," Dr. Marx said still starring in awe as John's curiosity had him tracking routes everywhere. In the end he thought about a general map, the image zoomed back and then thousands of tiny glowing blue specks dotted the hologram. When he thought about it a little more, he found each dot was a planet with a sequence of symbols up next to it and a string of letters that were very alien in character that he assumed was like some guide to the place. They probably listed the pros and cons of each location, and possibly the good tourist spots. John wasn't sure, and thinking hard about tourist spots brought up nothing in particular except the floating map zooming back towards Earth. Hell of a place to go for a vacation when there was a whole galaxy, more, of tiny lights and symbols to choose from.

"Damn. Think... Can you think about a people? Think Tok’ra. I know you don't know it, but give it a try. Tok’ra," Cam reiterated, watching the picture.

John tried but there was a big emptiness as if the device was going 'huh?' and he was equally going ‘I don't know’ back in return. "I don't think it's going to work with someone I don't know or even have an idea who or what they are. Let me just...uh...I have a vague idea about what the Asgard might look like from your description...let me just..."

He concentrated and had to actually put in a lot of effort but after a long minute of pushing for an answer, the map shimmered and various moving dots seemed to indicated Asgard ships in the galaxy. 

He zoomed in on one... and blinked as something rippled back at him. "Uh-oh... think they felt me do that...um... "

"Yeah, if they did they'll let us know. Just, uh... " Cameron reached for the device, holding his hand out for John would pass it to him. "Damn, man. See, I *knew* this was the best place for you."

"I wasn't exactly expecting this sort of side effect," John said and willed the thing to turn off and it did, dropping into his hand so he could pass it over to Cam. "Guess they might want me to stick around huh?"

"No kidding." Cam glanced down at the now dull orb in his palm. "Jesus. Hey, it's just as well that you're not physically 100% yet, because I think you're on turning things on duty for a few weeks. You have no idea how excited the scientists and Daniel and Sam are going to be. I think Daniel might just pass out because not even he can persuade General O'Neill to spend his time just messing around with things."

"So I'm going to be General O'Neill gene body double huh?" John said already missing the feeling of connection with the technology. "Well, if it gets me back in quicker then I'm up for it."

"You think you're up to doing some training with my guys and general hanging around until the good Doctor here gives you the all clear?" Cam smiled at Marx, and it was clearly a leading question.

"Sure." If it meant he was out of the hospital all the sooner he was up for it.

"I didn't see anything that would prevent him from doing light duties," Dr. Marx said. "Just take it careful on trying to build strength back up again."

"Plenty of good food, fresh air, and people to make sure he still does his PT." Cameron grinned, and slid John an almost sly glance. "So, are you all wrapped up on testing him, or do I have time to go call the General to share the news?"

"I've got most of the samples I need, the others can wait. You go tell the General," Dr. Marx replied, practically shoo-ing them away.

John found he was actually smiling a little as he stretched a little and then moved to follow Cam. He might have no problem locating things across a galaxy, but when it came to left, right, east and west he was still directionally challenged.

"That's amazing, Shep, just -- Jesus." Cam laughed, and slowed down so John had time to pull his shirt back on, his clothes back together as they headed out of the infirmary. "Here, we'll stop in my office and I'll call him -- then I have to get you down to the labs."

"If I don't come out after a week, send in a search party," John said dryly. “I didn’t know it was going to happen, but if it makes everyone this happy, it’s a good thing."

"It's a good thing." Cam's hand on his shoulder was gentle while the other man steered him into the hallway. "Trust me, it's a good thing. I think you're going to fit right in here,"

"That'll be a first," John said half under his breath but for a moment, a long moment he had forgotten about Leo, about Afghanistan and everything else. That in itself was the miracle.

He'd take more of those miracles. And as long as he had something new to focus on, something bigger than him -- galaxies bigger -- and learning a whole new way of seeing the world, maybe he could shift his focus, slowly but surely.

* * *

John wasn't exactly sure which were the most dangerous missions, his ones that ended up off world under fire and being glad he'd worked out how to run to the gate, to the times he got put on ATA gene stunt double duty. He was a filler-in, stepping in an out of teams when they were a man down, going through with rescue teams, or dragged off to the labs for tests or activating duty.

Because he had experienced that whole thing with SG-1 getting themselves in a difficult situation with the Ori and riding to a rather shortlived and messy rescue, Dr. Biro had refused to let him back on gate duty until she had had a good chance to see what was going on just in case he dropped dead from residual effects or something.

He tried to persuade her that the Ancient artefacts were probably as dangerous if not more so. The amount of weird things that happened to him was building up now. He'd been phased out of time – apparently most of them had done something similar. He'd blown up a few things activating them injudiciously and there was the now infamous body swap with General O’Neill where he spent most of the time in a coma while Jack went off to save the day and Daniel using John’s body. When the day was duly saved and he got back into his own body he noticed that 1) Jack and Daniel couldn't seem to meet his eyes 2) His ass was very sore and 3) his body now seemed to have an embarrassing conditioned reflex now to seeing Daniel.

No, being shot at could be a lot less confusing.

But it was still part of his duties. He slunk down to the labs, and turned things on so the scientists could wreck havoc. He knew, knew in his brain more than his heart, that the scientists were doing amazing things. They were improving their ships and weaponry and trying to come up with ways to stop the Ori. It all had a huge purpose that was out of his reach, but he wished he didn't have to be the guinea pig for a day.

He wondered who'd won him for the day. He stepped into the lab and grinned. Not so bad.

"Hey Radek, your guinea pig has arrived."

He liked Doctor Zelenka. He had a sharp sense of humor, and an undaunted interest in what he was doing, with a lot less of the bravado of some of the scientists, or half the too-easy comfort of Carter.

"Ah, good -- I have everything catalogued and lined up on table. Nothing will explode, I will promise." He had his glasses on, a sign he'd already been up close and personal with some of the objects he was probably having John try to turn on.

"Didn't one of your guys tell me that almost immediately before I blew up the lab with something?" John said with a smile. "Any guesses what we have here?"

"Some scanner, what is either a vibrator or a child's toy, I am not sure." He gave a quick glimpse of a smile, tapping the table near the last piece. "Perhaps it is something fun."

John raised his eyebrows. "Maybe I should start with that one," he said just to be awkward. He reached out and took it out of order before Radek could object. 

It lit up rapidly enough and he stared at it a moment feeling that over-eager almost puppyish delight the technology had to mesh with his thoughts. Then there was another little holographic projection of P3X-379 and his view as he was running through the trees, trying to intercept the people trying to flank SG-1. It was as vivid and clear as if it was happening.

"Memory projector," John said with certainty. "Here, see if you can work it now it's on...try remembering someone I wouldn't know so you can be sure I haven't done it by accident."

Sometimes, things still worked after it was activated, gene or no gene. That meant that they had more than a few interesting weapons that seemed keyed but not permanently to the gene. It just needed someone to 'start 'er up' as O'Neill had told him, after a few thousand years of dormancy. 

Radek reached for it, and the shift in picture really wasn't in his head. There was a too-bright visual in front of him of a brightly glowing orange crystal clutched in the hands of a man who was probably about John's age, receding hairline, and a twist of a smile curling his wide mouth. Definitely someone John hadn't ever seen in his life.

"Who's that?" John asked taking in the details of the other man. Idly he wondered if it had sound as well and there was a click noise and... well, sound.

It was tinny, a little garbled, but there was sound. _"This is the most amazing thing -- Zero point energy, Zelempka -- this beats wormholes, I mean, we're talking about using a pocket of subspace to draw on the immense energy in the very particles around us, in this pocket. No wonder they used that to power their energy weapons!"_ And then the memory faded, and Zelenka stared at it for a moment, just holding onto the piece in his fingers.

"That was Doctor McKay. And also more than a little frightening."

John had blinked a little. He had a minor obsession with the missing Atlantis expedition that was known and vaguely tolerated by most members of the SGC because they had an idea what he was acting out. It was just the way it was. Rationally he knew they were probably dead, but then there had been the people out there saying that sort of thing about him and Leo in Afghanistan. He knew the name Dr. Rodney McKay from the files, but the details he had seen didn't match the man himself. "You knew members of the Atlantis expedition?"

"I was almost part of it." Radek's fingers seemed a little unsteady as he set the memory device back down onto the table. "I worked in Atlantus, the ancient base in the Antarctic, for over a year. But after mission approval had been given, my mother fell ill. And we had every reason to believe that while it could perhaps be a... one way trip, no-one truly believed it. And I only had one mother."

John nodded. "I can understand that. Dr. Marx and Dr. Biro talk about Carson Beckett all the time. And a few others as well. " He tried to stop himself from too much curiosity, because it seemed a bit tasteless.

"McKay was..." Radek shrugged his shoulders, and placed a hand on the table top, cleared his throat. "Not as loveable in his absence as Doctor Beckett. In end, all fall for the scottish accent. Or did. McKay was... asshole. Canadian."

Was, not *is*. Zelenka thought them dead. He hadn't even known them and he was rooting for a last shred of hope that they might still be there because having been on that side of the equation, he'd needed to believe that someone, somewhere was holding out hope they were alive. Even if it was Leo's wife and kids and no one that concerned about John Sheppard. McKay didn't seem that assholish to John. He could work on believing that he was alive and just lost rather than dead.

"So… you don't like the guy?" he asked. "Why did you bring him up as a memory?"

"No, no, you misunderstand me. I liked him. He was hard man to like. Very demanding of his scientists, and also, bad with names." Radek looked down, cleared his throat slightly. "In any matter. I think this piece will have its uses and will receive further testing on later date."

"Yeah," John replied. He was silent for a long moment. "I think we should...go after them if we can. Even if it's just to know what the deal is. There's got to be a way right? To get there. To find out."

"We would need..." Radek looked thoughtful, or miserably serious, and John wasn't sure which somber emotion it was. "Two Zero Point Modules. They would never allow for a second one way trip with the, the loss of personnel, loss of people, that occurred with first trip."

So it wasn't for lack of wanting, it was for lack of power.

"Zero point modules...that would be the thing Dr. McKay was holding right?" John asked. "Is there something we can ask where we could get one? I mean the general got his information from a database, right?"

Which had nearly over-written his brain but that was neither here or there. "What about the GPS thing? Could it be souped up with something?"

"Mmm, perhaps. But it seems that you need to be able to identify. And there is the possibility that we could go to much trouble for a... for a drained ZPM." But it sounded like John had him on the bandwagon, because he wasn't saying no, and John knew to take absence of no as yes.

"Going to a lot of trouble is...pretty much my job," John said, pushing the idea. "Look, maybe if I could see what it looked like some more.. or...do we have the drained one? Maybe it's kinda like dowsing. There used to be a guy when I was a kid ...well, he dowsed for water mainly but sometimes metals. When he did that, he’d have to be touching a sample of what he was looking for. I know it's a long shot, but I believe in longshots."

"There is paperwork that needs to be filed to get it so you can see and work with it, but I will push for that to be done. If we had a ZPM for our base, and could reach Atlantis and come and go... "

"Then I could pull in some pretty big favors and ask to do reconnaissance there. Ancient city right? They won't let Jack go but they'd need someone with the gene," John said aware he sounded surprisingly animated. "And someone who knows Ancient technology..."

He thought of the image of the man that Radek had brought up and wondered how he was. If he was alive or dead. If he was alive and wished he was dead.

And Dr. Beckett, whose memories seemed to bring a wistful smile to people’s faces. Or any of the others whose memories the marines toasted and kept alive in Friday night drinking sessions.

There was a Major Lorne who'd been well liked, and a Sergeant Ford, and so many people who were still held in memory. It made John want to tap those memories, made him want to watch and draw on them for something. "We do not even know it still stands."

John hesitated a moment and picked up one of the other objects, making it whir into life at a touch. "Dr. Zelenka...someone has to be the one assuming it does. And it might as well be me. I know people think it's weird that I don't even know any of these people to really care if they are lost but..."

He didn't look at him as he picked up the other object. "...but that is the point for me. "

Maybe Zelenka knew all about what had happened. John was pretty sure the 'Crucifixion Kid' appellation had stuck around for a good few months after he'd gotten there. There was grafitti in the men’s room, which he ignored, though the tone had moved to be a little more respectful with jokes about ‘miracles’ creeping in after he’d made his mark and saved a few teams, generally from their own lack of common sense.

"Because they are lost?" Zelenka tilted his head, watching the object whirr to life and then... then it settled down, to a soft lulling hum that scratched at the back of John’s mind, that felt like it was trying to slip him to sleep. "We have lost many, Major."

"Until you see the bodies, they're not lost forever," John replied. He'd wanted someone to care enough for him, for them to try everything. To take the risks he had taken for someone else. 

Just because it hadn't happened for him was all the more reason to make it happen for someone else. He gave a half smile. "And sometimes not even then apparently."

"Do not get me started on SG team one." Radek rolled his eyes, and reached forwards for what John was holding. "Tell me what that is doing? It look like sex toy."

John mentally refocused on the item. "I thought ancients were glowy squid things of light? Do they need sex toys?"

He mentally prodded at it to see if it would do anything and felt a pleasing humming sensation sweep through him.

"Before they reached height of evolution, they stood on two legs and had penises just like we." Radek shrugged his shoulders. The object seemed soothing, though, not particularly sharp, and it almost felt sedating the longer he held it.

"Uh-huh...I don't think...it's one of those." He yawned a little, his eyelids drooping. His legs seemed to go boneless and he was incredibly relaxed, very suddenly. Oh hey, sitting down might be an idea.

No wait, he was. On the floor. How had that happened?

Radek pulled it very carefully from his fingers. "I think perhaps that is enough of that. Useful, but not so much. Yes?"

He grinned happily. "Yeah..Feeling... mmmm...good. " He lay back on the floor for a moment, thinking happy thoughts about finding the Atlantis expedition alive and well, about the feelings of sunny afternoons lazing with nothing much to do but enjoy himself. The sharp pleasure of surfing and finding that moment of perfect balance. "Think 's... an antidepressant too."

"Something to give to the medical staff to deal with, then." Radek set it gently back on the table, and stood there, just looking down at John for a moment, and John couldn't bring himself much to care that Radek was standing there. "You are something else."

"Yeah?" John knew he was drawling the question. "Hey, you know...I think you're pretty much the smartest guy I've met? Anyone tell you that before?"

Somewhere in the back of his head, his natural sense of caution was jumping up and down waving its hands around to try and stop him. But whatever the device was it had worked a bit like sodium pentothal and morphine and a shot of mood elevators.

It was amazing. Even if it wasn't in his hands any longer, a hit of that, a couple of minutes with it could be amazing strides on lifting his mood after a mission. "Once or twice. Come, stand up."

"Do I have to?" John replied and with Zelenka's help he managed to get a little drunkenly upright. "Hey, there we go. You ought to try that if you get stressed Doc, that is way better than drugs."

"Mmm, clearly. Should I march you down to the infirmary right now, or should it perhaps wait?" Radek always slanted his questions so that people felt stupid giving any other answer than the one he was looking for -- it was pretty sly, if you asked John.

"Huh...nah, I'm cool..." John said. Nearly slurring his words "Dr. Biro won't be happy if I turn up there now...she banned me from the Infirmary. "

Unjustly he thought. Wasn't *always* his fault what had happened.

He just had bad luck. Really bad, weird, unpredictable luck... 

"Major Sheppard, your hand should not be on my penis. You are actually looking for table."

John looked down, and smiled slowly with all his charm. "You know...maybe it is an ancient sex toy after all," he murmured. "And if I can mistake you for a table... " He raised his eyebrows a little even though inside he was mentally groaning.

"If you make wooden or third leg joke, I will make sure next device you touch will explode." Radek nudged him to stand with his hands on the table, and backed away. "This is definitely something to give to medical staff and then leave alone."

"I've always said they need to get laid more," he replied and turned dizzily, pretty much stoned by the energy of the device. "Okay, I’m thinking now would be a good time to go there."

It didn't feel bad, in fact it felt very good but that actually scared him. It wasn't right. It was like the opium and Leo...and all of that.

He didn’t need that, and Radek was peering at him, vague concern on his face before he reached to grag John's arm. "Yes, yes, all right. Where is your radio?"

He waved randomly to where it was tucked in his jacket and he tried walking forward, and bounced off of the table then fell over a chair.

After things had stopped spinning a little he blinked. "You know...I'll just wait here. For them."

"Perhaps that is good idea." Radek shifted, knelt down to rifle into his jacket to get the radio out, and John had to concentrate hard to not make any sudden or stupid moves.

It was a little like being high and horny at the same time and he was pretty sure it could be used more sensibly than this. And he couldn't be sure the whole horny side of things wasn't just him because even if his body had had sex recently, *he* hadn't and he was feeling left out.

That was probably it more than anything, and he supposed he was lucky that Radek always responded to things, anything, so damn calming. John closed his eyes, and he could vaguely hear the man's voice on the radio. When they were done poking him, he could see about the scanner again. The scanner and ZPMs.

Radek hadn't said no, which meant there was probably a way to make the thing, and he would get it to work somehow. And the brass wouldn't say no, because they would clutch at straws for one of those ZPM's. 

When he closed his eyes this time, he was smiling.

* * *

It was one foot in front of the other, but it was also stepping away into vacant nothingness, the feeling of skin and bone dissolving away from him. It was the same feeling that they all faced every time they crossed through that ring of exotic particles.   
He supposed that he should have been comfortable stepping through the gate, putting his feet on new solid ground, but he was not. He knew more about gate travel than anyone except perhaps Samantha Carter, and even then, it was just that she put on a good show. But it never soothed down his worries, because he knew the delicate rules that governed the wormholes, knew their weaknesses and the weakness inherent in the dialing program itself.

Every time Radek stepped through the gate, he did not expect to come out the other side.

Sheppard was ahead of him even as Markham was ducking around the area in a typically military fashion. He glanced around and gave a smile. "All your molecules still intact Radek?"

He looked casual and at ease, as if standing on another planet was not a miracle by the laws of physics.

When it was. When by every law of reality, the odds of there being breathable air was perhaps 1%, never mind a comfortable gravity that neither broke one's spine or had a man bounding around like on the moon. But there it was, with the sky blue and the trees green, and perhaps he did not grasp the pure miracle that it was that a gigantic dinosaur also did not swoop down and immediately devour them.

Radek was not sure anyone else grasped that miracle in the same way as he did, though perhaps Rodney might’ve done.

"Except perhaps my sanity ones."

"Pretty much found those optional," John replied looking around. "Okay... this could be the one."

John said that every time. It filled Radek with a peculiar sense of shame to see him have so much faith that they would find a ZPM. They had one full one - but that hadn't come from their interesting trips. That had been a mildly disastrous time-travel paradox and a converted ancient shuttle John had dubbed a puddlejumper for its ability to go through stargates and SG-1 and it was just all terribly messy.

John, as it happened, could locate ZPM locations but could not distinguish empties from full ones with his useful Ancient GPS tracking and locator device. And there was a surprising amount of empties out there.

They kept them, of course. Perhaps one day they could recharge them, recreate the subspace pocket that had once powered them. There was much to be learned from the empty, the broken, but John's heart was in the end goal of ‘rescue’ more than the ZPM, while Radek remembered a man who'd been far more obsessed with the ZPM itself. 

"Or it could be stylish table decoration."

"Your Czech optimism shocks me," John replied. "We got all those drones at the last one. The general actually smiled."

Their incidental discoveries had been sufficient to warrant the time and effort, but even so it was becoming more difficult, with John occasionally pulled off for other things. He wasn't sure if the man actually slept or not. He didn't dare say, if the Ori did not back off a little, then two ZPM's might not be used that way at all. 

And yes that was why the mission had been approved, but life did not always work out that way. John was an idealist, though, through and through, and he truly believed they would be able to reconnect with the lost city of the ancients, and there would be no deterring him. It made Radek feel bad, as if they were taking advantage of one very determined mentally ill man.

It would not have been the first time for the SGC, if he thought about Doctor Jackson.

"Maybe it was gas," Markham laughed. "C'mon, doc."

"Yes, yes..." He pulled out the scanner which John and Markham insisted on calling a tri-corder despite his attempt to correct them and fired it up. It was amazing how easily he had come to expect that level of detail from equipment.

Well, no obvious energy spike although there were some anomalous readings. Bad news and good news.

"Got anything?" Markham always leaned that close, and it made Radek want to lean away, far away, to give himself space to breathe.

"I have something strange. Major Sheppard should turn on his device, and we shall see if they correlate."

His device being the modified 'Ancient GPS' that would point out directions if the Major could focus long enough to get a lock. It sometimes took time.

"It would be easier if ZPM had zip codes," John replied and turned it on.

Zelenka turned around. Amazing, they'd been here more than a minute and no one had tried to kill, capture or be excessively friendly towards any of them.

It was those ones who were excessively friendly who worried him. They always *seemed* nice, and half the time they were, and half he other times, they were looking to make one a meal. *Into* a meal. Radek surveyed the area, and quietly prayed for an uninhabited planet, an easy come and go mission. "Zip codes are also hard to decipher."

There was the image and sure enough it seemed to overlap. "Anyone likely to interrupt us?" John said as they started heading in that general direction.

"No activity or proof of habitation near the gate. I'm hoping that if there is anyone, they're on the other side of the planet," Markham told Sheppard earnestly. Always earnest. The soldiers were eager to work with or impress or both a gene-holder.

Either that or there was something about Sheppard, which was also likely. 

"Well, hey, maybe we'll have a quick easy mission." John said with a smile and led the way into the woods that were just up from the Stargate.

They were particularly gloomy woods and Zelenka wasn't convinced they weren't out to get them.

He had stepped through the gate ten times now, and none of those instances had been easy, or quick, unless he counted the planet where it did nothing but rain and rain and rain, to the point that even getting the DHD to dial them back home had been impossible. Even ancient technology could be water-logged, apparently, if one was given enough water. 

"And dolphins will fly," he muttered, but took off after John.

"There's probably somewhere that they do," John called back, betraying the fact he had excellent hearing. Markham grinned a little as they trekked through the undergrowth. "It's probably a mile or more to the energy source."

Great.

He did not enjoy long hikes or short hikes or medium hikes or hikes at all, period, ever. Full stop. They were carrying guns and ammo, yes, but they had also had training for it and he was carrying more computer equipment than most people took to a LAN party. 

Laptops were actually pretty heavy if you strapped one to your back and hiked through the woods. And he had various power sources, emergency repair kits, a few old salvaged crystal mechanisms that seemed to be the ones that usually blew out.

Who knew what he would need? He just knew that he'd be expected to fix it, no matter what.

It wouldn't be so annoying if he didn't know that John was smart enough to do some of it himself. He'd not long discovered who the person was who occasionally corrected equations on the lab noticeboards when no one was looking.

It was John, *their* John, who played stupid when it came to scientific matters. Played stupid, but did not stop asking questions, and there was the paradox. Radek did not know why he did it, why he persisted in pretending he was less smart than he was.

He would never have even had a vague idea if John hadn't given himself away just a little in a game of Prime not Prime with Dr. McKenzie when they were hiking to some destination. Ten correct in a row was not a fluke no matter how he shrugged and pretended it was. He understood the trick of the last number, where other military members got all gnarled up in the length of a number.

He could not understand it. Brains were there to be used.

"Uh...sir?" Markham was looking at one of his devices that was noticeably inactive. "My scanners just... died on me."

It made Radek go a little still inside, and he looked sideways at Markham. Usually there was another scientist or another marine on their ventures, and Radek suddenly wished for a large one, preferably with a large, large gun. "Died?"

"So has the GPS," John said, after a moment. "Not so good."

No, no it really wasn't. Some sort of field shutting down technology was not a good thing.

Perhaps Sheppard did not know how bad a thing it was, but Radek also doubted that they would be leaving. "Perhaps we should go back."

"No." John said that immediately, but then he hesitated a moment. "If no devices are working then it's a pretty even playing field out there. "

"Do you want me to scout ahead sir?" Markham asked and John shook his head. 

"Let’s keep together."

"Have you never watched horror movies? Splitting up equals death. Also, slutty women. But splitting up would apply here as stupid." Radek closed the space between them, and looked, scanning with his eyes to see if there was anything over.

"And besides we're fresh out of slutty women," John said as went into a more defensive role, P-90 at the ready. "And hopefully fresh out of stupid. Markham, take the rear."

Of course he was taking point. Radek was starting to feel a little like a sandwich as the two of them bracketed him before they started moving again. And they were still headed towards the reading, which meant that they were facing well over a mile of walking in those conditions, through dense woods.

And the other scientists wondered why Radek hated to go off world.

Ha. Wait until they had to do it. But he couldn't not go because he was needed and if there was a chance, he couldn't be the one to ruin it. Not if it meant they could get them back.

He missed Rodney more than he'd ever thought possible. He thought it would've been a relief not to work with him. Except, it was not, and he could deeply understand the mounting frustration the man had held towards others in program who were golden people. 

Sheppard's habit of hoping for the impossible was contagious. 

Radek nearly walked into the back of the man as he had halted. There was some sort of very overgrown structure visible ahead, surrounded by large standing stones.

"Ancient technology. I can feel it." John murmured.

"Still powered, then, or able to function." Able to function was almost as good as still powered, but Radek had no idea what a charged ZPM would feel like for John. "Good., We should go on."

"I think this place must be deserted. It doesn't look like anyone has been here for a long time," Markham said.

"Which doesn't mean it is safe," John pointed out. "Let’s get down to that dome shape in the middle, see if that is a way in."

Radek wasn't even sure why those two bothered to communicate or pretend to. Markham would point out a pro point, Sheppard would respond with the con, and go forwards despite it. As if there were some part of him that went 'ah, dangerous! Fantastic, let's go.'

"Wait wait. Before we go any further, I need to know what jamming technology this could be. Our scanners are useless. What else is not working?"

John had a look through his equipment. "Pretty much anything electrical or running on a power source," he said after a while.

"Yeah, same here," Markham added. "The P90's should work though."

"Compass?" Radek demanded it, sticking his hand out. "Do not tell me that it is on your wristwatch and digitally powered."

"Not digital but..." John frowned a little. "It's all over the place."

He showed it to him and the needle was swinging erratically.

"Magnetic field?" Markham asked.

Sheppard shook his head. "Wouldn't damp down the electronics as much."

Radek shot him a look, and twisted towards Markham, because clearly only one of them needed to hear the answer. "EMP disruption field. Much stronger than a magnetic field. We shall follow the crazy spinning compass to source."

"Still reckon it's the dome thing," John said. "But, here we go..."

They headed off, and it was really pretty eerily quiet in this area. Maybe the EMP field drove everything away.

Radek was going to hope, very hard and very loudly within his skull that it was the EMP field that had drove everything away, even though there was no logical reason because people were not repelled or turned off by such devices.

Sure enough it was right down to the dome and Radek noticed the Major inching in with a lot of caution. There was a strong, nearly acrid smell here, a little like ammonia. But all thoughts of that were forgotten when John yanked back some covering foliage, revealing an entrance.

And even from outside, he could see an encapsulated glowing crystalline form squarely on the top of a plinth.

"My god. My god, it has to have a charge..." Radek started forwards, but he didn't walk past John because of the smell emanating from the chamber. Because there was something surely wrong.

John hadn't let himself smile yet, though he was entitled. "Markham, you got a glow stick or a flare?"

"Yes sir," Markham looked around apprehensively.

"There's something in here, or lives in here. Light it up and we'll get that ZPM outta here."

Radek saw Markham light the flare, watched him thrust it forwards into the darkness that Sheppard had peeled back the overgrowth to reveal. And he wished, right away, that that was not so, that they had neither gone there nor lit the flare. Because he could see a shine off of something to one side, and that something was moving, alive.

And then the huge, scaled, doglike head lunged at the light.

"Holy crap!" Sheppard was automatically firing and backing away, but the enormous snake creature was having none of that. Its scales seemed resistant to penetration by bullets, though repeated weapons burst eventually cracked and flaked of shards of 'biological armor'.

It was becoming very obvious very quickly why no one has found this ZPM before. Or if they had, been unable to take it away.

Radek stumbled backwards, away from the mouth of the cave. There was nothing he could do, no weaponry he could carry. Markham threw the flare at the creature’s head, and shouted to fall back. Grendades, yes, of course -- both men carried them, and hopefully the creature could be killed without destroying the ZPM.

It was not a happy snake thing from hell. The speed it moved was phenomenal and it was out rearing up far taller than any of them. John seemed intent on luring it away, and gestured wildly even as it struck wildly at him, literally smashing through a tree.

"Get the damn..."

Get the damn ZPM, Radek knew, but the creature's tail and hind end never seemed to end and he could barely make himself start forwards into danger. Had to. There was a ZPM, and the creature was moving past him, after John. If he could get it, just leap over its tail, well...

That would involve some sort of athleticism he wasn't sure he actually had. Nevertheless he was thinking about it, even as the tail hit Markham and sent him flying past him to crash on the ground.

What were they thinking? They were incredibly outmatched here. Still, he would run past it, into the dark cave, fumbling for a flashlight as he ran. Not that he needed it -- the ZPM had a vague glow to its own, a life force, perhaps, and he knew the flashlight would be useless against any other giant snakes that could be in the space.

He was just really hoping that because the thing was so big, nothing else could be in here. He barely missed the arcing tail, ducking under it rather than going over it. He could hear the staccato of John's P90 and then him shouting.

"Hey! Hey!" as if he was trying to get it's attention. "You're not going back in there...you...scaly bastard!"

Very brilliant. Very brilliant of him, because clearly the dragon-snake creature spoke English like all creatures in the universe did. Yes, it was a brilliant plan and Sheppard was an idiot, as sure as the sun rose and set, and Radek Zelenka dove for a ZPM.

He had his hands on it, and it was humming with power but the light behind him was eclipsed by the movement of plated scales and somewhere in that he caught a glimpse of that enormous head poised to come in and then...

An arm reaching from behind as if someone were clinging to the creatures neck and reaching up with a grenade, pin already pulled and wedging it behind fangs.

Even as the thing thrashed to get rid of the irritant, there was a muffled ‘whump!’ and the inside of the dome was being splattered with snake brains.

And him. Radek could only watch in shock as the body slumped to the ground, still twitching, and John collapsed onto its thick back, breathing hard while Markham lowered his gun and jogged to stand in the entrance. "You two all right?"

"Nice of you...to join us," John said and he had a note in his voice that just hinted he might be visiting the Infirmary when he got back. He didn't move from where he was, sounding like he was a bit winded. Not surprising considering the wild thrashing around the creature did.

"Hey, there were little ones of those critters? Coming out of its *tail*, Sheppard. Like sea-horses. I say we get out of here."

"Yes. Yes, yes, Sheppard, here, we will help you back to gate and this can be the terran-free planet of the draconic snake." He shifted, tucking the ZPM against his chest.

"You got the ZPM?" he was saying as he straightened up, like that was more important. "Fuck... I'm good." 

He waved Markham off. "You keep the Junior snakes occupied."

"Yessir." There was a burst of p90 fire, and Radek tried to not watch Sheppard pull himself together. It was a mile back to the gate, and it would be a gooey, tiring walk back through the woods dripping snake brains as they went.

"Here, at least let me help. ZPM is not heavy."

It was difficult to tell that what was blood and what was snake goo, and John stood straight though it took effort. "Okay, I'm ready. Let's move."

It was then that Radek saw him smile. "We've got a ZPM to deliver."

It was hard to not feel a little of that infectious enthusiasm himself, and he stepped closer to Sheppard, offering support if the man wanted to take it. He no doubt would _no_ , but Zelenka felt he should offer. Behind them, Markham walked, possibly backwards and firing at the snake-creatures's younglings periodically.

John waved him off and limped a little as they moved on. "If it's charged, we can get there," he was saying as he winced. "That's what you said right?"

"Yes. Yes. There will be preparations, but with two, with two, they will be approved." It would take time, but Radek could see no reason for them to not go.

Even covered in snake brains John had a smile that lit him up, that made his half smiles look pale in comparison. It was slightly disturbing to see him so invested in what they were doing when he himself should be the one demanding Atlantis be remembered. 

All he hoped for now was that they could actually get the Gate to work, otherwise all this had been for nothing.

* * *

He might as well have hopped himself up on the device they'd given to the infirmary from the way he'd been bouncing around. Apparently, he was smiling way too much that everyone was watching him out of the corner of their eyes. Well, that's what Cam had said, but apparently Cam was struggling with the fact that Daniel wanted to go and Jack or Cam didn't want him to. Or Vala, though Vala had said something about joining in the fun.

Fact was, he had been waiting for this for way too long. And maybe it might let him go, this compulsion to find them all once he was there, but either way, he would've accomplished *something*

He checked his kit over one more time, waiting for the others to join him in the gateroom. He was early, but that went without saying.

It was his mission. He'd even been given a damn _promotion_ , so they could allow him to head it up. Not that he hadn't been deserving of the promotion in a lot of ways, but John hadn't expected that. He'd been expecting to be out on his ass after Afghanistan, not getting his career back on the line, not getting his life back together and shooting for goals again.

One day, he'd make full bird colonel, but until then, Lt. Colonel and going to *Atlantis* was a hell of a lot. More than he'd ever expected to have.

Cam had taken him out for a drink, and John had thanked him. He wouldn't be here now without him. Maybe in more than one way. If they were dead, then at least there would be ... god, 'closure'. He hated the word, but it fit.

If not, he might just find them and that would be worth all the hassle and missions.

It would be worth the world, worth anything that had happened to him. To find that many people, to find that there was no reason to have given up. Some people thought John had a messiah complex, but it wasn't that. It was wanting... to do something good, lasting, same as anyone else, and if he had other reasons than needing to have a reason, John didn't want to look at it. 

Slowly, other members were starting to gather -- marines and army and the few scientists they were taking with them. Radek had volunteered, had said that he was going on the mission *only* three years later, and that was better than never. He'd been the first volunteer, and his volunteering had been a statement to the other scientists about John's trustworthiness. 

"Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard." Cameron’s voice issued from up in the gate control room, coming through the intercom. "We'll send the MALP in first if we can make contact."

"Sounds like a plan," John replied looking up at them. Even Jack was there, no less hopeful than he was about making contact. He'd wanted to go as well, but there had to be one gene holder capable of operating the chair on earth and at the moment that was down to a choice of two.

So the more expendable one of them both was going and O'Neill was staying.

"Dial her up... lets see if there's anyone home."

"Here's to hoping." Cam gave some signal to the gate operator, and John turned to look at the gate as the chevrons were announced and dialed. One by one, slow and tedious and wonderful.

Fingers crossed it would find a gate to lock on to. That was the main problem and one he knew Radek didn't mention for fear of crushing his hopes as if he really was that fragile. It was an 8 symbol address and it seemed to take forever to lock in.

"Chevron 7 encoded. Intergalactic reference point chevron 8... encoded... "

He willed there to be a wormhole and with a familiar whoosh of an event horizon, there it was. As rippling and serene as a lagoon surface.

He let himself smile at that even as he heard Sam announced. "Wormhole to Pegasus locked on.We have viable contact."

"Send the MALP through." That was General O'Neill's voice, and John just turned to watch the motion, the motion of everyone watching in surprise. 

"Attempting to make radio contact with Atlantis. No response. Sending MALP through the stargate."

He looked up at the video feed to the gateroom. A dark area, no lights...huh, were those bodies around the gate?

"Is that ..." Daniel hesitated a moment.

"Those aren't our uniforms. Looks like an invasion force," Cam commented. "Or whatever's left of them.

Dr. Biro had arrived and was studying the glimpses she could see. "They've been dead for years. Undisturbed for at least two I would've said. Poison atmosphere?"

"Vitals look stable."

"Oxygen mix in the air looks right, gravity -- no atmospheric threats." The MALP tilted its camera, viewing from one side to the other side. "The uniforms look burnt. Some kind of energy discharge?" 

Maybe. Maybe, and John wished that Walter or whatever the gate guy's name was wouldn't theorize aloud like that.

"The place looks deserted," he heard Sam Carter say. "But capable of supporting life."

The image swung around showing steps and an apparent control area. Most of it was dust sheeted.

"Looks like there was an evacuation," O'Neill said. "Dead bodies, and evacuation - maybe the neighbors don't play nice."

Evacuation was good -- it meant they were probably elsewhere, maybe with allies. They were ingenious, and John knew that people did what they had to do to survive. But it meant they weren't 100% dead. It meant they were out there, that somewhere, they were out there. Maybe they'd even left coordinates.

"All right, be on guard. Your first mission is to place the ZPM, and get key areas of the city functioning. Dial back to radio and data transmission in 24 hours, understood? We need to know what happened." O'Neill's expression was hard to read just then, but John could guess what kind of thoughts were lurking there. Doctor Jackson had wanted to go so very badly, and it wasn't the kind of mission to lose that sort of brainpower to twice. That he was taking Radek with him was bad enough. "The Daedalus will be en route and will meet you at the city coordinates in three weeks."

"Sir." He was trying hard to not to grin like an idiot. "Atlantis teams, form up. We're going through. Dr. Zelenka, Dr. Biro as there appears to be no overt danger, I can't see why I can't allow your request of being the first to step through." He gestured to them both even as the marines and military personal gathered up the rations, equipment that was going to pour through the gate in the space of the next 30 or so minutes.

Zelenka nodded his head, and stepped up to the gate with John and Biro. He looked nervous, but he always looked that way when he stepped through the gate. One day, Sheppard would work out why, but until then just noting it would have to do.

"Good luck, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard." Cam was standing there by the general, and he was almost grinning like a loon, eyes bright. They all hoped it'd work out. There was no way to not hope for that. "Please proceed through the gate."

He gave Cam a proper salute then, which he normally didn't do and stepped up to the wormhole interface that was rippling ahead of him. This was what he had been focusing on, obsessed with and it was going to become a reality. It meant he wouldn't even be able to think about contacting Leo again, but he'd have to learn to let go of that sometime. Moving to another galaxy might just do it.

Glancing at Zelenka and Biro, he took a deep breath and stepped forward, finally on his way to Pegasus.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

Carson was in the Chair -- again. He'd thought after the last wraith attack where he had practically lived in the old 'throne' of the Tower, he would’ve had chance to have take a break from the constant threats, the need to make sure there was enough food and shelter for everyone as well as the various medical crisis’ that the Pegasus Galaxy had in store for the ignorant refugees. But Lorne and Ronon had located a stash of drones and they were trying to reload before another Hive ship came looking for them. Again. Even with his improved skill, honed by pure necessity, he needed a reasonable batch of the squid-like weapons to take them down.

The Tower didn't have the personality Atlantis had had, not that he'd been very successful sitting in that Chair, but that had been before. Before he had learned to push in desperation, stretch himself to protect his own people from Earth and the Athosians. Before the Wraith attack on Manara that had killed and incapacitated more of their pilots in frantic blood and fire filled moments had forced him to remote fly Gateships in formation away from the planet and cloak them with his will, until they could make an escape to another world.

The Tower was probably the longest time he got to stay in one spot for as long as he could remember, because these last few years had seemed like a life time.

It was something like a home, now. If one defined home as the place where he slept and held meetings and generally planned to keep living, then it was home. An unlikely one, but he handled it well, reached for the deeper controls of the chair. It wasn't all firing drones. They had to be loaded up, too, and the loading required someone to be controlling it. A simple procedure, Carson supposed, if you could use the chair effortlessly.

He wished he could. But he knew he would have a thumping migraine later; something which was all too common now, and had been over the last three years. He couldn't actually remember a time when they hadn't lurched from crisis to crisis, either personal or general. Manara had nearly finished them, despite the precautions. Too many injuries, too many deaths, barely anyone made it away unscathed. From the rain of fire and the culling beams. He hadn't but he'd had to keep going to deal with the injured because he was one of the medical staff who could still function.

That whole period of time had been a living nightmare; hopping from world to world, the Wraith harrying them until Kavanagh finally managed to work out what frequency they were homing in on the ancient technology and they turn the bloody thing off. He couldn’t help but think even now that Rodney would’ve worked that out in the first few hours and they wouldn’t’ve lost they people they had. But he’d just smiled and said thank you to Kavanagh and kept his thoughts to himself.

Then they'd vanished off of the Wraith radar, looking for a home and come weary and rag tag to the planet of the Othaerians who had just had a rather messy revolution after their Lord Protectors had been poisoned, and then the Chamberlain had been killed and then... within a couple of weeks apparently all the 'nobles' had killed each other and then threatened the villages so the villagers had killed those who were left and suddenly there was no one to defend them.

Until the refugees arrived and Carson sat on the 'throne' and the place lit up around him and for once they weren’t harbingers of doom on an unsuspecting world, but potential saviors. So here they were, the left over Othaerians, Athosians and Atlanteans piecing together a world that would work. They got the Tower, and that meant, yes after some work he had a lab again, the scientists as well. The Athosians and the Othaerians moved in close to the protection of the tower and they did their best to bring them together.

In the end, they had decided on a name to pretend they were all one people which would hide them from people like the Genii, and others so throughout the Pegasus galaxy the ‘Trinarians’ had suddenly become a force to be reckoned with.

Not known for raiding other peoples or causing distress, but for being a force to not toy with, and a formidable ally when one was in need. And in Pegasus, someone always needed, needed help or rescue or just a trade of technologies.

Carson closed his eyes tightly, felt his consciousness filter into the chair as awkwardly as ever.

The galaxy was three spheres of influence, and Carson hoped that soon they could reduce it to two.

He found it hard to deal with the fact the other main player was the Genii Confederation. He knew he shouldn't have problems with it, but he did. Ever since the day Teyla had come back in from a trading mission and told him that there had been a coup, and the upper echelons of the Genii government had been slain along with all of their households and he knew he'd missed his chance.

He blamed himself for Rodney's death for if he hadn’t been dead before then it was certain then, even if he hadn’t believed it until a trusted ally identified Rodney as one of the dead. He'd been too wary, too reluctant to risk Evan and his team on a rescue mission when they were so under threat and potentially vulnerable. He kept thinking they would be in a better position next week... and then that week would see them fleeing for their lives again.

That 'next week'; where they'd been in a better position had simply never come, because it was never enough, because they'd been floundering under shite leadership (himself) and a not-good-enough scientist, and Carson had failed to do the one thing that would have fixed both problems.

So, they were dead, confirmed dead by an ally who swore he had seen their bodies displayed. They were dead and Carson just hoped that Rodney had died quickly. His mind had painted him enough pictures of Rodney, suffering, to last him a lifetime.

He'd wanted to curl up and die when he heard the news – nearly had when it had been confirmed. He knew Teyla had seen it in his face because for a long time afterwards he wasn't allowed to stop. To be alone, or have nothing to do but think. He loved him. He'd been holding on to hope and he had nothing and since then...

Carson didn't have time for that sort of thing.

The drones were shuttling in with the new ZPM functioning well - they'd traded his services in 'curing' a plague that was ravaging a world for the artifact, and the Zelari were now staunch allies and felt they had the best of the bargain. He'd been right at that at least. Everyone needed healers, medicines and they had concentrated on that. Leaders of worlds began to seek them out, and with each cure he sealed another alliance more solid than one just built on trade.

They needed the goods from others, and they could provide the services. And people tended to remember those who'd saved their loved ones when there was little to give them as payment, who did the work anyway -- remember and help when the Trinarians were in need themselves. He had requested labor in lieu where food could not be given, and most people of Pegasus were proud enough to be glad they were earning. It meant that the Tower was made habitable very swiftly, cropland cleared, irrigation systems created and new dwellings built as swiftly as possible. Plus of course the fact that their allies grew to trust them and a solid alliance was built up.

And as long as he kept busy, the rumors of what the Genii were doing, what they did, didn't make him too angry or knotted up inside. Their weaponry had leaped forwards, as if they'd decided just how best to fight the wraith, in the most inhumane ways possible.

 _"Beckett?"_ Evan's voice crackled into his ear on the radio. _"We're in position. Are you ready?"_

"Aye," he replied. "I've got the launching system ready for loading. How many are we loading again?"

If he had the authority he would've promoted Major Lorne ten times over. But when all was said and done, not even Elizabeth could've authorized that. He swallowed a moment. He needed to do this and get back to refine the latest antidote to the latest batch of Genii anti-wraith weaponry. They kept producing variants to stop the Wraith getting an effective antidote. Nasty stuff.

That had been the most surprising Genii development, if anyone asked Carson. It was a chemical encased in a bullet-like shape, loaded into guns. It shattered once inside the body, releasing the chemical into the body of its victim. It didn't kill like a poison, but it did stop cellular regeneration and enhance degeneration and the assumption seemed to be that blood loss and decay would do the rest. Instead of twenty rounds in a wraith foot soldier, you needed only one. Evan had declared that he wanted to shake the hand of the man who'd come up with that brilliant idea.

The downside was that the bullets were all hand manufactured to a degree, small scale, and exposure to the chemicals was toxic to humans as well as wraith, and it really was a very unpleasant agonizing death as flesh broke down inexorably

 _"Twenty this time. Simpson wants to check the other half for functionality before they're loaded, but these have been cleared."_ Hell was a dud drone stuck in the works -- even ancient technology could fail, and Carson preferred that it didn’t fail when they needed it the very most. 

"Twenty is enough, if a Hive ship comes," Carson replied. He knew the marines, and Ronon and...a lot of everyone else respected him more after he had destroyed the first Hive ship that had come to cull them, but they didn't seem to realize what it did to him. He'd lie awake in the pitifully short nights he allowed himself wondering who he was now. A doctor or a killer?

"Stand back, I'm initiating the loading sequence." He concentrated for a long moment, listening to the Tower whispering to him, like voices in dreams and he started feeling the curious reflected sensation of the drones slotting into place.

To a degree, it felt like he was part of the Tower more than sitting in the chair at Atlantus had ever felt. But that had been a base, made for war. The Tower, like Atlantis itself, had been home to a people, a people who no doubt wanted a better connection.

_"Yes'sir. Five drones in place now, putting in five more._

"Thank you Evan," he replied letting his mind wander. So he had to see about the antidote to the corrosive which he was still analyzing as it had a tendency to eat through most things. He had Teyla and Halling due back from discussing an alliance with the remaining Hoffans. He could not believe that they were experimenting on their own population like that, and now they wanted him to try and fix it. There was his own retrovirus to look into and the latest Kavanagh complaint or disaster to resolve. Ronon and Ford had gone on a far too dangerous reconnaissance mission and in an hour they would be overdue and he hated that.

He... probably had a meeting in there somewhere with someone. Oh god, he couldn't remember - Teyla would be horrified at him.

She really tried to help him, tried to help him keep all of his ducks in a row, but there were things to do, too many things to do and it never worked out the way he wanted it to. After the drones, would come Ronon and Ford and seeing what had happened to them and honestly if someone wanted to meet with him that badly they could get off of their arse and go look for him for once.

Sometimes he just wanted to shut his eyes and... not open them again. It wasn't something he could tell anyone because he was the leader by default and he soon realized somewhere along the line, that the leader had to be an Oscar winning actor if nothing else.

No one wanted to see him give up. Or uncertain, or scared witless which he was on many occasions.

"Next lot please Evan..."

 _"Loading next five, sir."_ Evan always called him sir, sir not Beckett, and never Carson. The military was part of Evan still, even after their long separation from Earth. He still saluted, too, and Carson supposed that was why Ronon admired him so much. That he'd held onto his training that long, with no external reinforcement.

Ford had latched on to Ronon with something a little a kin to hero-worship and he was the one who had made the battle scarred Satedan smile. As Teyla had said at the time, then there was hope for the man.

He might've been the one who had talked him down, risked the Wraith to perform the surgery in the middle of nowhere, taken the chance to have a private one to one discussion with him but he really didn't know if Ronon even liked him. Perhaps that was something Elizabeth had felt as well.

He had no idea at all why people sought out command, why Kavanagh was constantly harping on about the better job he could do, the mistakes Carson had made and how that had cost lives. 

As far as he was concerned, Kavanagh could've had the leadership – if he hadn't been pretty sure he'd end up dead. That they'd all end up dead, and they had a home. The Athosians, the Othaerians, hell, even a few of the Atlanteans, were starting to do things like birth babies and ponder inter-tribal marriage. There was no going back to Earth, no going back to a peaceable life with television sets and grocery stores and all of those creature comforts, and to the Athosians and the Othaerians, such an intermingling was common place for people who had been, as Carson preferred to term it gently, reduced.

_"Next and last five."_

"Aye. When we're done, can you see if Ronon and Ford are back? I'll meet you in our...conference chamber if that is all right with you?" he asked as he took a deep breath and readied for the last batch.

 _"Sounds just fine, sir."_ And hopefully they would be back, hopefully Ford and Ronon had just lost track of time, and well. They couldn't afford to lose either of them, it was just that simple.

Teyla got very tetchy with him when he had to make dangerous house-calls. Not all of them went particularly well - he took it as a bad sign that his various convalescences in the Infirmary over the years had been the nearest thing to a holiday he'd had in a long time.

Last five...locked and ready. Great. "All done Evan. I'll ask Teyla to join us if she is back from meeting with the Hoffans."

 _"I think she is, sir. "_ The confirmation made him think that perhaps one thing had gone right. Now to see if he could get through the meeting without thinking about Parna or Rodney, or self-inflicted genocide, or...

Or, bugger.

"I'll see you there in ten Evan...Carson out," he replied and then very carefully sat up, his migraine manifesting almost immediately in violent stabbing pains in his temples. "I should be bloody well used to this by now," he complained to himself as he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes for a moment.

He reached for one of his homemade pills and swallowed it dry. Might just work enough if he drank some water.

He could get that once he was out of the chair, once he was headed to the meeting. A lot of water and whatever rest he could afford himself until the next big thing went wrong. They were meeting with a representative of the Belsarians and the Yulari, who were also in tentative trading with the Genii. There were a few groups that Carson was willing to call 'neutral' because they served as go-between between the Genii and the Trinarians. It kept both peoples from direct contact -- for whatever reason, the Genii were just as willing to avoid meeting with the 'Trinarians' as Carson was to keep avoiding them. 

Occasionally there was talk of a direct alliance, and he was beginning to think they might have to do that because the Wraith were very unhappy about the fact that people were fighting back. It was possible the Genii had no time for people who produced cures for their weapons. Perhaps that made them akin to Wraith worshippers in their eyes. But they were all stuck here and it was only a matter of time before the Wraith got serious about the threat posed.

He got up carefully, the chair deactivating as he stood, and started off towards the conference room.

It was much the same layout as Atlantis had been, so the walkways and even the floor tiles always struck Carson with a sick sense of déjà-vu. As if at any moment, Rodney would pop out of the hallway that turned down towards the labs, and declare that someone, Carson or Lorne, just had to see this amazing whatever. Rodney's interactions with ancient tech had always been full of so much more enthusiasm than Carson could muster. And Rodney's gene was fake, induced.

Had been.

Carson couldn't let him go. He didn't think he ever would. It wasn’t even a conscious thing, or a guilty thing. It was just like that part of him had died along with Rodney and just didn't work anymore. He knew Rodney would want him to be happy, just as he would for him if he had been the one to survive, but somehow it just wasn't going to happen. It had been years and the pain wasn’t going away.

Frankly he was pretty sure that he would likely spend the rest of his life, however short or long that would be, alone with regard to relationships. That was just the way he felt about things.

It was almost better that way, coping on his own. Teyla seemed to, and Elizabeth always had -- and that was the example that better, other leaders had set for him. A little distance kept him rational, half a step removed from reacting with his gut tendencies as much as he was prone to.

Before he even reached the conference room, he could hear Ford's voice, explaining things to Lorne in a calm, up and down tone that told Carson there weren't any fatalities to be dealing with.

Thank God for that. Carson pulled on his 'everything is fine and going well' face and headed around the corner into the room.

"Welcome back Ronon, Ford..." he said. "No one in need of patching up before we have a wee discussion?"

"Not a hole in either of us, sir, that shouldn't be there." Ford gave him a loose, easy grin, leaning back in his chair. Teyla looked vaguely tired, and Halling looked emotionally exhausted, but that was what he expected of speaking with the Hoffans. "The planet we visited had been half-culled before the hive ship exploded. Half of it went up in Atmo, and the rest has made some pretty nasty craters on the planet. This makes it randomly destroyed ship number 9, sir."

Carson tried to remember what Kavanagh had said in between his last complaining session. "That's good and bad news. That amount of destroyed ships is going to give the Wraith a reason to band together." There was something niggling at the back of his head that he should remember.

"Any theories about what might be causing it?" He looked at Lorne and raised his eyebrows a little and then over at Ronon and Ford, including them all his question

"None." Ronon looked like he wished he knew what it was. "Maybe their equipment is failing."

"They weren't a very... advanced people, as we knew them," Teyla said gently. "They farmed. They had one large city, and many camps that moved." Which would be hard to tell from the burnt out wreckage that Ford and Ronon had no doubt seen.

Lorne leaned back. "Honest, sir, it seems like something the Goa'uld had done. You put a bomb in a person that's triggered by a certain energy field. It's high science, and I'd say the Olesians had done it, except for the part where they're all dead. Maybe one of their scientists got away."

That was what it was reminding him of. Yes. "Aye... suicide bombers, that's what it was reminding me of. Perhaps it didn't have to be as high -tech as that, just needing the human element. We know there is knowledge of explosives out there... enough to do this? Trigger a detonation at a particular time?"

“Sir, I could do that.” Ford was proud of it, too, and there were other marines who’d come with them who could. Except that any of them would have come to him first. “All it takes is one ingenious guy and some highly explosive ore, and some rope, and you’ve got a bomber ready for the next culling.”

"But this has happened over...well, nine different worlds. Is there any connection between them?" Carson asked. He was still uncomfortable with being called sir but had long since run out to the strength to get them to change.

It wasn't hard to find people in the Pegasus galaxy who would be willing to die to kill the Wraith. Too many had lost too much.

Ronon was shaking his head, and Ford glanced at him before nodding. "Yeah, no connection that we could tell. There's a bit of a folk legend about a blind man showing up on planets that're expecting a culling -- Ronon thinks and I really agree that he might be our designer. If he travels alone, makes contact, convinces someone that they could take out a wraith ship that way, and moves on... No way we can track him. Not through the destruction that follows a downed hive ship."

"That's..." Carson considered it. "Both horrifying and brilliant."

It really was because if the person the man contacted went through with it, then there would be no memories to read by the Wraith. "He must have access to resources," he pointed out. "Bombs don't grow on trees."

"It's not us," Ronon pointed out. "My first guess is the Genii."

"Or a planet of peoples who are very low key. Perhaps they do not want their involvement or advancement drawn to the Wraith's attention," Teyla offered gently. "There are many planets who try to minimize contact with others for fear of just that."

"Aye, I think we've learned that particular lesson well," Carson chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment in thought. "Do we do anything about it? Let them get on with it?"

"If an opportunity comes up to meet this 'blind guy', I suggest we take it. But I wouldn't make it a priority." Lorne paused for a moment before he added, "After all, either the Hives unite because they're running scared, or we all die anyway because there are still around 50, maybe less, hives that can leisurely pick us off. And who knows how many planets that they're based off of?"

"We could use some better options," Carson replied. "Running away has worked until now, even standing and fighting. But we are limited to our weapons supply unless the scientists trip over a weapon."

"Which is why I suggest we keep an ear to the ground looking for this guy. He's a new kind of option." Lorne crossed his arms loosely over his chest, and gave another shrug. "Primitive guerrilla fighting has worked before."

"The retrovirus could work to buy us time but I wouldn't to announce as the answer to everything. I don't think Queen Wraith will be affected." Carson admitted with a sigh. What information he had managed glean hinted that way and it made too much sense to him as well.

"Perhaps there is a way to target the queens?" Teyla tilted her head slightly. "The remaining Hoffans are still immune to wraith attempts to kill drain them. But they are starting to show birth defects in their newborns from the survivors. This is what they need our help for."

"I had a feeling that might be the case," Carson replied. "Did you bring back blood samples?"

If he fixed the Hoffans he removed their ability to be Wraith poison. And the Wraith queens -- he needed access to one to know the differences.

They needed to capture one, somehow. Maybe a mission to one of those planets with a crashed ship. They could start to scour for bodies, and he could work with the remains of a queen for quite a while before a real queen was ever necessary. 

”Yes. They still have very able doctors.” Teyla’s face was a vague grimace. “They are in your labs. Their young are… Very malformed. The Hoffan people will cease to exist in a few decades if this persists.

"Which defeats the object of surviving now," Carson replied. He’d told them that when he’d helped them, and then wished he hadn’t. "Aye, well I'll look into it. I think though I'm going to have to pay a visit to one of your half-culled worlds, see if I can find some hive-queen remains. In some ways, we are going about this wrong. If you take out the queens...then the Wraith are finished. And there are more than a few queens to tackle." The Hoffan babies were most likely akin to the thalidomide babies on Earth. Desperation forced many things.

Desperation killed half the population and doomed any new births. It made his head hurt, that he'd been part of that, that it was his fault that he'd helped them reach that point. Technology and medicine could be used for great evil in desperate hands.

"Right." Lorne nodded, and shifted his chair backwards. "I'll see about getting a group out tomorrow to go scout, sir?"

"If you have enough fit and well Evan, please." Carson knew he wasn't good giving orders. But they seemed to...get along somehow. "And you can keep an eye out for the mysterious blind man as well. Teyla, do you have any suggestions where we should try next?"

"There are a few more addresses I think we should attempt to liaise with. They could yield useful information or technology to us, and are not wraith-worshippers." As far as Teyla knew, but Teyla's contacts tended to be on the up and up about that. No-one wanted to become an accidental wraith snack.

"Well, we learned that lesson the hard way," Carson replied. They'd come across wraith worshippers when they had been looking for a place to settle. It had ended up being a very bloody and unpleasant encounter and he just could not believe that someone would willingly seek destruction in that way. 

But he guessed sometimes that was easier than living with the continual stress of wondering if survival was about to collapse around them. "All right then. We'll carry on making contacts as we have before, look for the Queen wraith tissue samples and I would like a group of our Trinarian traders to be on the lookout for information specifically to do with the blind man we've heard about. We need to start considering about making some sort of... less tenuous alliance with the Genii." 

His own personal feelings aside of course.

He had to put them aside. They didn't know who led the Genii now – just that there had been a slaughter, and that the new leadership had been quiet, subtle in claims to power in ways that Cowan hadn't been. 

"I will put forth feelers with their intermediaries."

"Thank you Teyla," Carson replied. "I'm not actually that comfortable with it, but if this rate of Hive ship destruction between our own efforts and that of the Genii, sooner or later they are going to band together en-masse and come after us. It would make... strategic sense to be allied rather than trying to beat them alone. " 

And who was he to be using words like 'strategic'? It was just another way of saying common sense, which seemed to be a rare commodity in Pegasus.

"Or beat them congruently." Lorne nodded slightly. "I wouldn't trust them as far as I could throw them, but right now we don't have any other options. So let's consider this WW2, and make the best of the fact that the ‘Russians’ have a lot higher population than we do."

A lot higher. 

"Aye, that is true," Carson replied. "But we have the better medicine and sciences. They may still see a benefit in alliance. And frankly, the sooner we get something sorted the better. "

He sat back a little, the sparkle of a migraine dot appearing in his left eye as he did so. "No need to beat around the bush... I'll let you all get back to your jobs. It's not like we don't have a lot to do. Thank you for coming." 

And he didn't have time for migraines and headaches caused by stress or some interface problem with the ancient technology. He had too much to do, especially if he had everyone out there sorting out some new alliance. They just had to be careful and see if they could handle catching a Genii tiger by the tail. 

Teyla leaned in, and patted his shoulder gently for a moment, before she turned to leave with Halling, and the rest of them filtered out. 

Except Lorne. Lorne was still sitting in his chair when Carson could get himself to focus enough to look at him. "You all right?"

He looked up at him and inadvertently winced at the motion. "I'm fine.. .just the usual. Truth is, I feel a little cheated because if I'm going to get a headache like this, I'd really prefer to have done the heavy drinking that ought to precede it. I'll get something for it." 

Even though he'd already had something for it. He was surprised anyone noticed. He thought he had gotten pretty good at hiding it.

"I guess it's a good thing that you're a medical doctor, too." Lorne shifted his chair back, but he was still eyeing Carson. "Look, you haven't had a break since this all started. If you need to go and disappear for a day..."

"Where would I go?" Carson asked simply. "Step away for a moment and I could lose everything. It's best I just... hide out in my quarters or something. Which I will do. Besides it's hard to tell the patients to stop bleeding because I'm having a day off." 

"Hey, some of us could suck it up." Lorne stood, finally, and leaned over to put a hand on his shoulder. He hadn't ever expected that, that they'd try to be supportive as well as take orders from him. Perhaps it was because Carson didn't feel a need to press his authority at every chance he had -- it was de facto, and he didn't really want it in the first place, not the point of pride it had been for Elizabeth. 

"I'm serious -- go get some sleep. I've got it under control for the rest of the day, sir."

He was embarrassed at how startled he was to feel someone else touch him. How long it had been. Half of him wanted to flinch away and the other half craved more.

"Aye, thank you Evan, I might just do that." he said clearing his throat. "Maybe it'll go away if I have a wee nap." 

"Maybe. Just, give it a try." Evan's hand patted, once, twice, and then he was moving away, and maybe that was some subtle signal to Carson, but he had no idea. He really had no idea.

It was, he reflected as he stood up, probably better that way. Time to himself meant people dying, simple as that. He proved that when he tried to just give up after he heard Rodney had been killed. It wasn't him who died, it was other people he could've saved if he'd just been paying attention.

Signals or not, he didn't have much in the way of a choice.

* * *

It was a longer step through. He shouldn't have been able to sense that, but somehow he did. A longer rush before they reached solid ground. Dimly lit area, dried out mummified corpse remains practically under his feet.

And the moment he stepped forward, the area immediately around him lit up.

Not just light, but sound, and feeling in the back of his mind. It felt as if he had locked himself in the storage room where they kept the ancient technology, and even then, it wouldn't have come anywhere near to the thick, enveloping invasiveness that whispered to his brain that he belonged there. 

It was like something being delighted and desperate to see him. Something that needed him, wanted him and he couldn't stop himself grasping for that feeling.

And all around him things were coming to life. "Very cool... " he murmured as they moved forward and his marines flanked in and headed up the dark stairs that only lit up when he stepped on each step. He grinned at Zelenka, as he looked around at the supplies being stowed hastily.

"I take it that you're not dropping dead over there?" came the voice, O’Neill’s voice, over his radio. Just his, not a wide broadcast. There was a vague feeling of the city demanding that something be fixed. He'd felt that before with ancient technology, an urgency.

"Not so far sir," he replied. "She's feeling pretty pleased to see us." O'Neill would understand that even if some of the scientists wouldn't. She felt like a personality to him, someone as real as Zelenka who was rushing up the stairs to the control room.

John jogged up after him, so the scientist wouldn't be in the dark. 

"The main control console was not dust-covered. I believe they were using it. There are even... there is a laptop open, here." Covered in a thin sheath of dust that John bent down to blow off of the keys. It was probably deader than a doornail.

"Dispose of the bodies as you see fit, Sheppard. You might want to search them for any personal tokens, identifiers. If you can meet those people, it might soften relations to have those."

"Yes sir. We'll get the ZPM installed and look up some of the logs, see if we can work out what happened," John replied. "Last of this team is through sir. Hopefully we'll have something to report soon."

He noticed that the lap top had been etched with the name Rodney McKay Laptop 3 which almost implied he had two others, at least. Immediately he brought to mind the images of the man and hope he was not going to be a body down at the gate. Rodney McKay was one of those whose pictures he had memorized, studied until he was sure he could recognize him even altered. He was sure he’d know him by his eyes, that quirk of his mouth and yeah, it was entirely possibly he’d spent too much time obsessing over him and some of the others, not only because he appeared to be important to Zelenka, or like Beckett was to Marx and Biro.

"We'll dial up in 24 hours. Good luck, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard." There was a pause in the sound, and then it was in John's ears and in the gate's broadcast. "Atlantis Mission Two, the Daedalus will be there in three weeks. Good luck."

"Thank you sir," he replied and then the wormhole closed down leaving them a long long way from home.

"Radek, any idea where we have to go to put the ZPM in... or anything remotely resembling schematics?" he asked as he looked around. He touched a console and it leaped obligingly into life.

"Huh..." Radek leaned down, and then turned around to peer over his shoulder at a screen that seemed to be humming to life. "Somewhere shielded. It seems naquadah generators were left running."

"Left in a hurry then," he said a little unnecessarily. "Okay then..."

They weren't going to just strike out randomly until they knew where they were going. "Markham, secure the area in this immediate vicinity. Dr. Biro, you mind taking a look at the bodies? See if there are any distinguishing features," John asked as he waited patiently although he was starting to feel a compulsion itching at the back of his head.

He just wished he knew what it was. For the moment, he could stand over Zelenka's shoulder and watch the control room start to fill in with supplies and people organizing, Biro looking at the bodies and directing an aide to help. 

"We are... ahah, Colonel? Think of a map, please."

"A map of Atlantis..." He concentrated and it was all the world like some eager puppy running off to do his bidding and one of the big screens flowed into life with cascading symbols and then visual schematics. "Thank you..." he said automatically and then felt a little embarrassed. "That any better Doc?"

"Amazing." Zelenka leaned forwards, and gestured to one of the dots, the little cluster of them that had to be their life signs. "So we are in center tower. Central. I suggest that perhaps one or two groups of scientists stick to centralized locations and search for place to put ZPM. Unless you think it could... " He wiggled that pointing finger at the screen, asking but not asking John to think of ZPM plugs or slots or whatever they'd be.

"Do I look like some sort of magician?" Then again maybe he did, with lights coming on at his touch and thinking things active. "Okay, don't answer that."

He closed his eyes and concentrated. _Show me where I need to go to fix you, to work out where things are...the most help._

Zelenka's muttered Czech reaction was enough to show him something had happened. When he opened his eyes there was the schematics of what looked like a command chair and a route towards it. "Well I did ask what would be the most help. What do you think? Should I...uh...?"

"Yes. I will go with?" He said it as a question, but it seemed like more of a command, like Zelenka wasn't going to let him just wander off on his own.

"I'd appreciate the company," John replied even as he memorized the route. He was going to get out his flashlight, but that seemed a little pointless when the place lit up around him. "What are the odds they didn't find a ZPM?" he asked as they set off down corridors.

"I am not sure. We found ours under not-so ideal circumstances and we had near limitless supplies to back us up. Also, we have no idea what they were facing here -- there are bodies in the gateroom that are not our people." It was pessimistic, but he was allowed to be pessimistic, just a little, John supposed. They were already standing in the lost city of the ancients.

""I'm taking that as a good sign.” John hesitated, wondering how Zelenka would take it because he knew sometimes he looked at him like he was one step shy of a padded room. But hey, they were in Atlantis and the Ancients did weird things. "Atlantis has...a very strong personality. She keeps telling me something is broken... it's a bit weird."

Zelenka looked sideways at him, and turned to follow John out of the command room. "I think something is broken. There are no environmental threats, no sign of our people, and abandoned things. And bodies."

"And they didn't come back." John said. That in his mind was the issue. "I never tried the one in Atlantus. What's it... I mean what should I expect?"

"The command chair is the heart of the base. The brain of it. In Atlantus, it was the base and the center of the weapons system. You can do anything from the chair." It sounded dangerous, actually, and perhaps that was why it was Ancients only, gene-pass required.

"Great." He didn't particularly want to get stuck in there. He had a conversation with Jack about it, sort of one Ancient gene guy to another. Jack reckoned he held back more than John did because he had issues with losing his mind and as he put it, John either didn't have one to lose or he really didn't care. It was sort’ve a compliment and a warning at the same time. "So theoretically doing this will shortcut a whole heap of time?"

"Yes. Also, you will tell me where to put ZPM so it is not expensive paperweight that glows." There, hah, there was a twitch of his mouth, upwards, a little buried excitement. Excitement and fear, and there was a sense in the back of his mind that he was responsible now for seeing that there was no reason to fear.

"I'm sure that will help," John replied as they entered the command chair room and watched it light up. He wondered if giving Atlantis a ZPM was a little like proposing and giving diamonds. He approached the chair cautiously. "I just sit down right?"

"And lay back and open your mind. I did this with Doctor Beckett many times. Except McKay was usually shouting at us." He shadowed John towards the chair, looking around. It seemed like it hadn't been abandoned so very long ago. There was a waiting feeling to the room.

"I think I'm going to have a lot to discuss with Dr. Beckett when we find him." John sat down and immediately the chair lay back and lit up and he had the peculiar sense of something there, not just in his mind but all through him. God. So much information trying to cram in like being babbled at frantically and he could feel the city stretching on and on.

He imagined the ZPM and immediately there was a sensation of excitement and urgency and things activated above him, scanning through schematics rapidly.

 _Here_ it was indicating in images and data. _Here_ and he could scarcely focus to breathe.

Here, because the city wanted it, wanted to function, wanted to repair its systems and he needed Zelenka to be the one seeing the schematics that were sliding into his mind, just a little, a lot too complicated for him. There was something about electricity, but his mind kept showing him something he'd never seen before, piers and the grounding plug of an outlet as it felt like the city tried to show him what he needed to do. 

Grounded. How could a city not be grounded, and then there was a flash of beautiful gilded ancient towers floating like a snowflake in an endless ocean.

He tried mentally explaining that he needed someone else to see and that was enough to get other screens running in the room, and schematics blurring. He tried to soothe the city a little ineptly, because how did you go about doing that? But yeah...okay...

 _Show me_ he asked and images from feeds flicked across screens. Storm data swirling on one massive screen. Logs of evacuations through the gate. Logs of an incoming breach of security and images from the security cameras. He recognized the gestures, the movement of the man.

"McKay..."

The invaders captured what looked like a small group -- killing two soldiers, two of theirs, and capturing McKay and a woman, a woman that John was going to guess was Elizabeth Weir. The images weren't in real-time, clips and pieces and disjointedness, as if the city has been half-functioning and wounded when it all occurred, flashing logs again, ancient-ized names that hopefully represented expedition members. 

Then there was the storm, exterior, McKay and the woman crouching by something outside, and a flash of too-loud audio _'grounding stations, you shot it, I have to reconfigure it to disengage or the shields won't be powered!"_. The camera image skipped again, slid and skittered and there was a man in the strange uniform of the bodies by the gate in the control room when a burst of gunfire went off, a ranking Marine coming out of god knew where , killing men as they came into the gate.

At least the plug images made sense. It was broken still and... dammit, images in the control room where they were. Lightning inside, figures and graphs underneath showing an overload spike, critical alarms on the Stargate, worrying looking protocols.

 _A shut down,_ the meaning whispered. _Lock down from a dial in except through the extra-galactic control crystal._

He became dimly aware of Zelenka trying to get his attention.

But the city was trying to tell him what needed to be fixed, so he soothed it off with a promise to look, a promise to investigate and fix and then he tried to swim back to coherency to see what Zelenka was trying to get his attention for.

"Major? No, wait you are Colonel now... I need you to focus on one thing at a time. I do not have mind hooked up to the city like you do," he was saying.

"What can I say, she's feeling chatty." John said as he opened his eyes. "You get any of it?"

"Some." Radek tilted his head, and he was staring down at John. "It moved very quickly. There was a storm, and McKay ungrounded the city. It activated some kind of... protocol and locked the gate. We should -- could you bring up schematics for location of ZPM and then we will head to grounding stations?"

"Let's have a go at that," he murmured and exerting a force of will, he managed to get the ZPM area nicely highlighted. "And the grounding stations?" He resisted the urge to call the city ‘sweetheart’ or 'baby,' though it was a close call.

"Please." And he thought it, and there they were, all highlighted. Zelenka stared at the picture, and mumbled something to himself, probably straining to memorize it. "Good, good. One first, then the other, Colonel."

She didn't want him to leave the chair, he could tell that much, a little like a clingy child - not that he had a lot of experience with them. "Look, I'm coming back..." he had to say eventually as he literally dragged himself out. "You can tell me about it then."

So what if it sounded crazy?

Radek was used to that and he didn't say a word as John finally got to his feet. Of course a city that ran on mental ability like that would cling, would seek people out after it had had a taste of being lived in again not too long before. And it had been abandoned for thousands of years before that, or so the story went, which...

There had to be a reason why the ancients would leave such a magnificent city behind. 

"Yes yes, I am sure it knows you will come back, Colonel. I will get ZPM and get marines to come."

He snapped back to attention. "Good idea," and remembered where he was and what he was doing long enough to focus and radio his marines for assistant and to bring the crate with the ZPM "We'll meet them half way. Something made the Ancients leave this place."

"There was mention of a plague. But the evacuation did not seem plague-related. Perhaps city will tell you?" Zelenka peered around them, and patted a wall lightly as they passed a corner. "Have never seen city like this."

"When we got the ZPM in place and worked out this grounding problem, and everything is secure, then I'll go back in and let her tell me whatever she can." He was silent for a moment before he said. "You know, I think she misses them."

"I do not doubt that. Semi-sentient city would benefit greatly from many OCD-filled scientists who are completionists. Much attention in short period of time and then nothing? I would miss, too." And he did miss, but Radek preferred the abstract way of discussing things, and...

And John had 24 hours to do as much as possible before he reported back to the SGC.

He'd like to give them a solid idea of what had happened and what he was going to do about it. That was going to be very interesting and he had a feeling any sleep he was going to have was going to be in that chair.

"Well hopefully out little housewarming gift will kick in some self-fixing mechanisms," he said absently. "If we can, I'd like to know roughly what we can and can't do by the time they give us a check in."

"That I can do, sir. I drank much coffee before stepping through gate." Radek grinned, and he kept letting John lead the way. Trusting him, which emphasized heavier on John that he needed to not let that many people down. He'd make it work. He'd make the city function again and he'd find the last mission.

He'd fought to get here and he'd been given the chance. Now all he had to do was follow through.

* * *

The more things changed, the more things stayed the same.

He was sure that was a song, or part of a song, but he hadn’t heard it in so damn long that it had slipped his mind if he’d even ever known the song. Every once in a while, he caught himself humming bad 70s music, or Bungle in the Jungle. His father had loved that stupid song, in that vague anti-political way that his sister had eventually latched onto when really, their father just hadn’t liked Nixon or Eisenhower or most American presidents.

He supposed there was still an America out there, back in the Milky Way. And a president. And a snotty protest song that got stuck in people’s heads when it was 30 plus years down the line and wasn’t much relevant anymore.

”Lift your chin.”

The voice in his ear was a quiet, comfortable rumble. They didn’t have the free time that they’d used to, but Rodney had been comfortable with that in ways that had… taken time to adjust to. Kolya was not his to have every hour of every day – there was a war, and work to do, and plans to set in motion, and sometimes the act of working together was just as good as those quiet moments they had in the mornings. 

Rodney supposed that he liked the quiet moments best. There was a new girl who cooked, and Gisera and Jadon had moved out, started their own small household a few blocks away now they were Genii citizens. He could smell the spice of ground tava-bean paste in the air, hot water and soap closer from their quick shower. He was sore, and he’d be sore until around mid-day, stretched out and sated. Then the smell of metal, too, and Rodney came to his senses when Kolya leaned in to shave away two days of stubble from the underside of Rodney’s neck.

Field work was thrilling and hellish and Rodney didn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t do it, if he didn’t go out with Kolya and his men, if he didn’t make quiet forays into the cities of planets that were in his projected culling paths. He was saving lives and fighting, really helping them fight back.

And now, now it was a quiet morning, sex and breakfast and shaving, serving as reward for a job well done. He’d have his meetings and Kolya would have his meetings, his work to tend to, and there was a new alloy Rodney wanted to test…

”I can almost hear you thinking.” Kolya’s thumb pressed beneath the juncture of ear and neck and jaw, and Rodney tipped his head back a little for him, even though the motion was tender and soothing.

”Thought I wasn’t supposed to talk when you did this. The whole ‘that’s a straight blade, my neck bleeds’ thing.” He barely said it, a faint whisper before Kolya leaned in to kiss just above where his thumb rested. Shaving was an impossibility when you couldn’t see your own reflection in the mirror, so he gratefully left his personal hygiene – haircuts, shaving – to Kolya’s decisions.

"There are times when I like to hear the sound of your voice," Kolya replied in a murmur. "It is refreshing compared to the fawning I have to endure as Chief. Ensures I do not fall into the same trap as my predecessor." 

The metal slid expertly over his skin. "Are you thinking of the next mission?"

"Mmm." Cowan had a huge, bloated ego, and he’d thought he could do no wrong when very clearly, he could. Kolya ran the system more as a... consultant, Rodney supposed. He consulted with a lot of people, heads of this and that and city representatives, and it worked very smoothly from what Rodney saw. 

The direction of fingers and thumb, gentle against his skin, guided him to tilt his head a little differently, so Kolya could shift the blade. There was something sensual about it, sitting on a chair in their bathroom, soap sliding down his neck and chest. There was a damp washcloth to the right for wiping up and some sort of aftershave lotion that smelled a little menthol and wintergreen.

Kolya said it was never any trouble for him, since it helped him relax. And, Rodney more than made up for it when it came to wound-care, since he could see the tissue beneath and what was going on. It had been pretty handy that time Kolya had taken an arrow to the shoulder, even if Rodney had never seen himself as assisting in field medicine.

"The last one worked," Rodney murmured when he was pretty sure that his Adam’s apple wasn't going to end up excised. Kolya shifted closer, one knee between Rodney's knees, body language relaxed. Velta would be calling up to tell them that breakfast was done, soon. "That never ceases to amaze me."

"It has proven to be the most successful strategy in any recorded history we are aware of," Kolya said sounding pleased as he wiped the blade. "Elizabeth has persuaded the Gulari to join with us. I must attend a formal treaty signing - apparently they will only sign with the leader. I have decided that when you go to Inthera, I will send Idos and some of his command. What happened on Gosk was... too close. We cannot afford to lose you and if I cannot be there myself, then I want it to be someone I trust implicitly." 

Too close. That was one way to say it, a group of local... something. Robbers? Rodney wasn't even sure what to think of them, except dead. But they'd attacked him, him, blind guy dressed like a Genii gone renegade or something, and he'd fallen apart because kidnapping was not something he could handle the concept of anymore. He remembered captivity. He remembered, remembered most of it, the pain and the drifting and the agony of actually being rescued because everything had burned, and the fear of what use he'd be any longer and...

And he was thinking too much. "I trust Idos to get us all home."

"So do I or I would not assign him to you," Kolya replied and wiped his face clean, stroking over the smooth skin with his thumb. "How goes your other projects?"

"Better. There's a new alloy I want to test for the bullets. It seems like it could be more reliably manufactured by our allies. As it is, the other tactic is forcing Hive ships to cull on the ground, where they're running into guns that can actually kill them."

“Yes. You are the Genii military's personal hero Rodney," Kolya replied with wry amusement. "Though it concerns me that someone out there is apparently able to come up with an antidote for the Wraith guns. I'm not sure how much credence to give to that rumor."

Rodney shrugged his shoulders a little, leaning into Kolya while the other hand carefully fitted the visor against his face. He could turn it off and on now, but bathing with it in place was strange and confusing, too close to Kolya and prone to trying to 'see' whatever he was thinking of, be it blood vessels or the plumbing itself. "They're idiots. If it's even possible -- the wraith hear about that, I'll have to take a whole new tactic and they’ll be lucky to be culled."

"The projections still do not bring them here?" Kolya helped him settle it into place watching it mould itself to his head and then he could see him in the now familiar cascade of sensory information.

"Not for another year." And they'd come, just a short while after he'd started to settle in, and many on the surface had died so that the cities could survive. It was the opposite of the tragedy that had struck the Manarians.

He still thought of Carson. Still remembered him because someone should. And if it was in quiet moments when he was alone and he could not distract himself any more that was all for the best because he didn't want Kolya to see that even now it hurt. It was stupid. He'd been with Kolya longer than he'd been with Carson now, but... it had been different. A very different feeling.

"Good. We will have time to develop the craft you talked of. And perhaps a means of city defense in case they locate us."

"Yes." He was working on that, thinking through how securable the bunkers could be made, and it was survival. It was like a cascade effect. His relationship with Kolya was comfortable. Functional. No great passion, but his heart caught in his throat when Kolya was injured or had his own close calls. The sex was... mind-blowing, Rodney supposed as he leaned in to kiss Kolya, sliding an arm around his chest.

He felt him chuckle and saw the colors dancing. "I thought you had had enough Rodney. I seem to remember you saying you would never move again."

"Exaggeration." Rodney waved one hand slightly, dismissing what he'd said earlier. He could still feel Kolya, still felt the soreness. "We're going on two separate missions. I figured I'd at least say goodbye before we head off for the next few days." Day if they were lucky.

He understood a little of what people talked about as love in war-time being something more focused and desperate than otherwise.

"We should never say goodbye," Kolya replied. "After the treaty, we have apparently been approached by the Varasenians on behalf of some other large faction. I do not know that it will lead to anything but...it might. If it does, then it is possible I will be away for a few days."

He leaned in a little, and pressed his cheek against the muscle that capped Kolya's shoulder. "Right. I'll keep on... keeping on, then." If Kolya wanted him to join him, then he'd send a message. He did that sometimes, asked Rodney to come and see what he could see, because Rodney had a 'unique perspective' to offer. "Ladon had some brilliant idea he wants to show me when I get back, so that'll take days to unravel."

Kolya laughed. "Sometimes he does have a certain insight. We do have some things that you have not seen before. And there are always the ancient artifacts we recover. You are still the best at activating them. Sometimes I count myself very grateful you have chosen to renew your allocation to me. You could be a free citizen twenty times over."

They'd all done that, renewed their allocations. Bates...he was the shocker. He was the one who refused to become unallocated from Idos very vocally.

"What would I do if I didn't?" He shrugged his shoulders loosely, and turned his head to brush lips against Kolya's skin. He couldn't guess at life on his own, or as an official soldier? No, he preferred the limbo-state of the allocation where he could be and do whatever it was he needed to at any given time.

"A good point," Kolya replied and he stood for a moment. "Well. We have had our moment of luxury Rodney. Now it is onwards with the day.“ He turned decisively then to give him a firm and definite kiss, one that would leave him with a memory of him for most of the day.

Kolya always left a strong impression on Rodney, mental, physical, before they headed off to their missions, sometimes the same and sometimes different. He was a shimmer of colors in the Ancient view of things, motion and muscle structure shifting and getting Rodney to stand up with him after the kiss. He could pull his clothes on, and Rodney could faintly hear Veltra calling them to come down for breakfast.

It was strange how life had become this way. Not something he would ever have imagined for himself. But he was a hero. A hero to the Genii, to the worlds of Pegasus who took his bombs to their hearts and fought back with weapons he had made for them.

Just sometimes he wished he felt the part.

* * *

The moment he was told the wormhole had engaged, John did force himself to pull away from the chair and walk a little unsteadily to the control room. None of them had really slept since they set foot through the gate to Atlantis. Zelenka looked like he never wanted to sleep again because every time he turned around he saw something new.

And he'd been in the Chair 'romancing' Atlantis, as Dr. Biro called it as she came past to take his vitals just in case it was secretly detrimental. He felt tired and a little headachy but that was nothing really.

"Atlantis mission 2, this is Stargate Command. Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard, respond."

"Sheppard here...good to hear from you General" he answered.

"Good to hear from you. Has the city been treating you all well?" There was a note of surprise, and maybe a little humor in the transmission.

"She's behaving well," John replied as he made it to the control room. "Making us right at home.” And there was the visual of O'Neill on a screen. "Things have been doing pretty well here in the last twenty four hours sir. "

"There you are, good. Do you have anything to report?"

:John leaned on a console. "Well, Atlantis is downright chatty," he said with a half smile. "Once I sat in the Command Chair, we were able to identify a lot of the main issues directly. The ZPM has been installed successfully and Dr. Zelenka is bringing systems on line as we speak. The Chair also showed us footage from surveillance recorders which suggest the evacuation occurred because of a super-storm roughly half the size of a planet. From what we can work out, Dr. McKay and Dr. Weir stayed to attempt to raise a shield over the city using power from the expected lightning. However, it was at this point a race called the Genii, tried to raid the city apparently for explosives and in part of the raid damaged one of the grounder stations. Dr. Zelenka tells me that this was responsible for a surge backlash into the Stargate... the cause of the dead bodies. It also initiated a lockdown protocol on the Stargate which looks a lot like it might've self-destructed, but didn't."

"The city's gate could only be re-activated with contact from the Earth gate, with correct control crystals. Probably to prevent invasion in absence of functioning city." Zelenka suggested it somewhat sleepily from the sidelines, and John didn't mind the breech of protocol when they were that sleepy.

"Do you know where the original team evacuated to?"

"Well, we've got an alpha site address, but the last address stored appears to be an address identified as the Genii homeworld in the database. Someone made it out of here and so far, Dr. Biro hasn't found any sign of the bodies of Dr. McKay or Dr. Weir," John replied. "We still got a bit of do to unlock the Gate from this side, but when we do, we're going to take a look around. " He paused a moment. "I guess I should tell you that they have something around here called the Wraith. From the looks of things they regard humans as food and suck the life out of them, stripping whole planets. They are the ones that forced the ancients to abandon Atlantis and return to Earth."

There was a long moment where he could see O'Neill processing the thought through, could see him thinking. "Uh, and does it seem as if they could reach us here on Earth?"

"They don't actually know where it is, or at least we don't think so. It's difficult to tell," John replied. "We'll transmit their mission reports to you... see what you make of it. They got pretty close to a group called the Athosians from the looks of it. So as far as we can tell, they been out there somewhere for about three years."

"Acknowledged. We're ready to receive their mission reports, and anything else you can send. We'll work on it from our side. Also, Daniel has a short list of things he wants to know from the database, if you can access it... when you have time. We'll be sending that through to you."

"No problem. Atlantis and I are getting on like a house on fire," John said with a smirk. He couldn't help it, he already felt possessive about the place. "I'll keep an eye out for any weapons as well. I know you like those."

"We'd appreciate it. We'll dial back in 54 hours to check in on your progress -- get some sleep, Colonel. We'll have a mission-response to the previous Atlantis Unit's mission reports by that time." Outlining goals for Sheppard, he knew, since the whole premise of his mission had just been to get in, no prioritized list like he was used to. Get in, get 'er functioning.

He was pretty sure that he'd managed that much with flying colors. "Yes sir. We'll look forward to it. Atlantis 2 out."

54 hours was a long time to get things sorted. Even if they did actually have some sleep this time around. It should be long enough to get the gate active, maybe long enough to do a little reconnaissance. Hopefully they would be able to work out the technology, and there might be some systems the original Atlantis expedition had to do without because they had no ZPM. Who knew what else they could do?

* * *

It was only Atlantis herself that had stopped him from going ahead with the reconnaissance. She insisted on telling him things, some which made sense, some which really didn’t before she was willing to let him go again. It was strange but he got the impression she really liked Dr. Rodney McKay because a lot of her images centered around what he fixed and changed for her. She also had the 'hots' for someone who turned out to be Dr. Carson Beckett. Dr. Biro had nearly cried when she's seen the playbacks he was being shown and he decided he wanted to meet the man who could make that much of an impact even years later.

Anywhere there, was no great surprise in the mission briefing. They wanted him to go looking for the missing expedition and they'd been to the alpha site first... and seen their first view of a culled world. Even now Manara was in ruins.

Sobered and more than a little disheartened by this evidence, John made the decision to take a small group to the second address stored in the gate. The Genii homeworld.

They were going under the guise of the Daedalus having transported them, because clearly the Genii wanted Atlantis and if they didn't know it was still functioning then there wouldn't be an immediate threat from them again. He was mentally calling it a fact-finding mission, but everyone knew that he was hoping to find more than just facts.

"I do not know how you pilot this thing. We will all fall out of sky and die. It has no lift!"

"Easy Doc," John soothed and smiled. "This little... puddlejumper is no trouble. She's not scary and she knows how to fly."

Although their aesthetics could use some work, the feeling of flying with his mind and thoughts was going both ways and was a helluva rush. "We'll be there soon."

"What will we do when we get 'there'?" Radek was ever the skeptic, but it kept John's head clear. After watching all of what the chair had to show, even he was getting caught up in John's hopefulness. Manara was gone, a destroyed planet, a lost cause. But perhaps they'd moved on, and perhaps...

"We'll go have a talk with a few people, ask if they know anyone called Elizabeth Weir or Rodney McKay...you say Rodney tends to make an impression?" John asked looking over at him. "So we see what reaction we get. If not we ask for this Kolya guy and see what reaction we get."

"Rodney made huge impression on people. Like a kick to the head. There are still people from scientific conferences who wince when name is said." Radek tossed that off as casually as if they were still back on Earth, and hey, at least they could get back. If they had to, it was there, it was an option. A ZPM on either side of the gate could last them a long time, with McKay's Naquadah generators supplying earth-style power to supplement things. "We will ask and we will see. Other ships going to stay cloaked?"

"Yes. I want this pretty low-key. If they are still here, they might've gone native," John replied. "Easy enough to do." He brought the puddle-jumper down easily near where they were detecting life sign. "We're just looking up old friends with any luck."

"I am sure that works well in a galaxy like this." A galaxy where whole planets were killed off, and where the enemy that they were facing down reminded him a lot of a bunch of shock rockers. There was probably some Freudian explanation or Jungian about how those costumes were part of a human sub consciousness... 

He started to coast in to a landing in what looked like a clear field. There were lights not far off -- not bright, city lights, but firelight.

"Well, I was kinda hoping for one of their cities but we can get directions," John said as the puddle jumper settled down feather light and perfect on the exact spot he wanted. "Let’s have some smiles and less of the terror-stricken look. You've been off world lots of times." John said as he opened up the back of the jumper.

Radek schooled his face a little slowly, but the Marines were quick to fall into what John knew was the somewhat grim humor they dragged with them. He was comfortable with that, with the way his group piled out of the puddle jumper, leaving him to shut it down and mentally 'lock' it.

He'd never have to worry about forgetting his keys as long as he had his genetics.

It was still as cool as the first time he'd found it and flown it in dizzying glorious arcs over the ocean, the metal snowflake city way, way beneath him and almost feeling the sensation of flight. That had been worth everything.

The puddlejumper was secure and he headed off over the ridge towards the firelight. That meant some sort of population at least.

Hopefully a population that spoke English, which had been noted in the files, even if the written languages were maddening. Doctor Weir and the previous Military commander -- Major Lorne, after the death of the actual commander -- had used the help of a native to translate. 

John just guessed he'd have to try his best.

He'd managed to pick up some Persian quick enough in Afghanistan. He was pretty sure he could make himself understood. He kept his smile even as they headed down a path to what looked like some bucolic rustic paradises of farms.

It wasn't what he was expecting to see, or the firelight. There was a lot of people around the fires, and the closer he got, the more sure he was that it was a bonfire, more than one. John gestured for them to slow as the neared the largest lit clearing. There were tables in the center of the area, stretched out with what looked like food and drink. It smelled like barbeque, fire-cooked meat, and there was the dissonant sound of unfamiliar music in the air. People laughing, and John knew that sound in any language.

He wasn't going to creep up on them so he deliberately moved them to the centre of the path and stopped even attempting to sneak in. Instead, he shifted his gun to casual and raised a hand and said "Hey there, sorry to interrupt... how're you doing?"

The people made for a strange visual, John decided, as the group nearest to him went still with shock. Whatever had been going on, they'd just crashed it. There were men in breeches and knee-socks, with vests and hats that reminded John very much of the revolutionary period. A pretty red-head in a corset twisted away from the group and ran into the thicker crowds, skirts billowing around her.

And then there were the few people, scattered here and there throughout all of the crowd, in the uniforms that John remembered from the videos, remembered from the floor of the gateroom. 

It didn't surprise him much when Radek took half a step closer to his side, looking out into the party or festival. And it didn't surprise John when one of the men nearest to him stepped forwards. "Who are you?"

"Just some visitors. We were kinda passing, thought we'd drop in," John said. "My names Sheppard, Lieutenant -colonel John Sheppard, not that that probably means a whole lot here, and this is Dr. Zelenka and some of my men. We've been told that the Genii might be able to help us...you are the Genii right?"

"I am Tyrus of the Genii." The name itched at his head, and he turned to glance back into the crowd for a moment before he looked at John again. "Where are you 'passing' from?"

"Pretty difficult question actually. See, we're from a ship called the Daedalus, from... quite a way off. We haven’t really got what you would call a planet anymore," John replied letting his voice be low and soothing. "But we had some friends of ours out here, who we've been looking for. We lost contact with them and we've been looking for them for some time. You ever heard the name Dr. Rodney McKay? Or Elizabeth Weir?"

There. It was dark, and he was only watching by firelight, but John was sure he'd seen something on the man's face. Then there was a subtle gesture with his right hand, down at his side, and John could see people shifting, could see those uniformed men moving in a protective way.

"You are one of those who were from Lantea. Please, follow me. You will need to speak with Chief Kolya."

"That's fine by us, "John said, but he didn't even have to do any sort of signal to the handful of marines he had brought with him. He'd expected this would happen and even if weapons were taken from him, he could call the jumper. A semi-secret weapon. He was actually relying more on the familiar faces to assure them of who they were otherwise he wouldn't've risked Zelenka who had been performing semi-miracles daily at Atlantis. "I'd be very happy to talk to Chief Kolya." 

Even it was under semi-guard and with a hint of hostility. If they did have McKay or Weir, then they might want to hold on to them.

"I am afraid that you arrived in the midst of our Harvest Festival." John didn't know why that was something to be afraid of, but he guessed he'd find out. Maybe that was the man's way of apologizing that Kolya would be drunk. John had only seen Atlantis' pictures, and he had to admit that the city had a way of showing people the way that she perceived them. People she liked had a glow to them in the replays. 

Atlantis was not an impartial city, so it had only made sense that she'd vilify people she saw as having done her wrong.

Their group was led, slowly, through the crowd. The music was still playing, but the laughter had all but stopped, and they were being led closer to the firelight. There was a cluster of men in those uniforms, drinking, talking, and some chairs abandoned nearby.

John tried to size them all up, tried to place them in his mind and work out what kind of threat they might each be. They all looked in good shape, fairly elite-types. Clean faces, clean-looking hair. Most of the Genii looked that way.

And then he saw the man he recognized as Kolya, standing in the middle of that cluster. He was fairly closely flanked by a shorter man, with some kind of military cap on, and there was something tied over his eyes. It looked like cloth, black cloth, because he was suddenly staring right at John even if he didn't seem to have eyes to stare with.

"My god."

Zelenka’s quiet exclamation alerted him to take a closer look. He looked different to the images he had seen, but there was something in the shape of the jaw and the line of the mouth that looked familiar, even if the body was leaner and lines more defined. 

"I take it that's McKay?" John murmured. Looks like the guy was blind or had some sort of problem but he did seem to be staring right at him. Enough so he was aware of the attention.

It was hard to not feel the attention on him, and then Kolya said something to him that John couldn't hear yet, and he jerked his head towards him, attention gone for a moment.

"Y-yes, that is Doctor McKay, my god..."

"Please, stay here -- have a drink while I speak with Chief Kolya." Tyrus gestured them towards the nearest table, laden with what looked like sweet breads, fruits and jugs of something that was probably wine. And then Tyrus started towards that little cluster.

"Thank you," John said politely, though he only picked up a cup rather than actually drank from it. He passed one to Zelenka and murmured, "I doubt it's drugged but just in case we need to get out of here, just pretend to drink." 

He knew the marines would behave as well, even as he watched Tyrus approach Kolya. Kolya had been told before and his mind flashed back to the red head that had run off when they had stepped forward. She ran like a... like a soldier, in that loping energy efficient way you either learned to do or ended up half dead after a march. 

"He's watching us," he said after a moment. "Which considering he appears to be blinded is a bit weird."

“Blindfolded. Perhaps he's peeking?" Radek edged slightly closer to John, but his eyes were on McKay with the intensity of someone watching a ghost.

It was hard to not watch McKay without seeing Kolya, without seeing Kolya pat his shoulder and then say something to Tyrus, who turned and headed back towards them through the crowd.

"Chief Kolya will speak with you." 

"Thank you. We appreciate that," John replied trying to not appear as on edge as he actually was. Dr. McKay had a close relationship with Chief Kolya. That was a reassuring gesture not something sinister or restrictive. Which meant things could be complicated. 

They were led over to Chief Kolya and he noted the unobtrusive honor guard watching them closely. "Chief Kolya," he said smiling a little. "Thank you for seeing us, sorry we... intruded on your celebration. My name is Lieutenant-Colonel John Sheppard of the United States Airforce and this is Dr. Radek Zelenka...who is particularly happy to see his friend Dr. McKay still alive." 

John could almost feel Radek vibrating, and he could see him take a half step forwards. At the mention of names, air force, and Radek, McKay's head jerked again, and he took a step forwards -- didn't check with Kolya first, either, which was a good thing. John had no idea how he was seeing where they were, though, with his eyes covered like that.

"Of the force that occupied Lantea. I have met your people before, and regret to inform you that they were culled on Manara, after the city fell. Dr. McKay is one of my allocated." The man was broad shouldered, and obviously confident in himself. He reminded John vaguely of old generals, the kind who never lost the posture.

Whatever 'allocated' meant although he could probably hazard a guess. "Okay... " he said. "We're looking around just in case anyone survived sir. Looking for lost colleagues and friends, people we care about." 

'Sir' never went adrift when there was ex-military involved. "Obviously anything that happens now is down to Dr. McKay's preferences. I'm sure there's a whole host of history around this I'm not personally aware of. Can I ask if Dr. Weir also survived? Or any other members of our expedition?" 

He saw that red-head look a little unsettled and made a mental note that it was likely that she had survived and that one knew something about it.

There was a pause, and then Doctor McKay spoke. "Elizabeth is still alive. And Sergeant Bates. That's it. So you... the SGC finally sent another expedition? Radek, say something so I can know it's you."

"We've missed you, you misanthropic Canadian bastard!" And then Radek all but lunged forwards, and bear hugged McKay with what looked like more force than anyone his size should have been able to pull together. "Even Carter has missed."

Chief Kolya glanced at that, watched, and it was almost too much watching of others watching and being watched for John to handle at once. "They were the only survivors. Initially, the evacuees were on Manara, but Manara was culled shortly after it occurred."

"Yeah, we've heard about the Wraith," John replied and he hated the sinking feeling he had when he should be really happy that they'd even worked out that three of them were alive. It was three more than anyone else had believed possible. "Not that we doubt your word, but I've got orders to take a look around just in case sir. "

Kolya's attention on him was disconcerting; as if he was looking at him in a more than strategic way and that was unsettling.

"Of course. But they are not among the Genii if they are to be found -- you can ask Doctor McKay." Kolya threw out a smile, finally, lazy. Big cat, yeah, the guy was sure as hell confident of himself, whatever he was doing in his head. "Rodney, why don't you take this, uh, other scientist and find Elizabeth. I believe she was speaking to some of the men from the councils... "

John could hear Rodney laughing, an easy noise that pitched a little higher than he would have expected from his speaking voice. "Sure, yes, god, it really is you, what the hell have you all been doing for the past years, Radek?"

"Disproving some of your theories about wormhole dynamics," Zelenka was saying and his hands were still gripping McKay as if he was afraid he would vanish. "Your ...McKay Theorem is crock of shit!" He was teasing him, John knew Radek well enough to know that. He also knew that Kolya was wanting to assess him personally as a threat. He didn't even have to nod permission before the pair of them were going off together.

"Why don't we allow our people to mingle, and you can join me inside?" Kolya gestured towards one of the many large, flattish buildings. They looked like permanent structures, but if they were homes, more than one family lived in them. And that was things he needed to start to keep tabs on in his mind. It was just like working a mission back in the Milky Way. Culture mattered.

He'd had a few very practical lessons on that from Daniel Jackson, and had started mixing in some anthropological texts in with his light reading. Guns that were manufactured didn't fit with this sort of culture. "I'd appreciate that," John replied giving a glance to his men. They would keep an eye out for him and one false move against him and they'd make a run for it with Dr. McKay at the least. 

They needed him, and worst case scenario, John would go through it and sort it out later. "What made your people send more of you back here? McKay had told me that your warships were destroyed, and that with the gate no longer in existence, interstellar travel of that level would be impossible."

Oh, fuck, Radek had said McKay was a talker. Kolya was already turning away from the firelight, leading John towards the building. Two children, dressed like tiny versions of the adults, burst past, and if he hadn't imaged it, the girl had been the one waving a stick at the boy.

"We have this... thing about leaving people behind. Took us some time to build more ships but we had a bit of a hand from some allies. Meant we could finally get back out here," John said easily enough. True enough, if a little misleading. "Takes a bit of time to get out here but its manageable."

Kolya walked with long strides, posture one that spoke of false comfort to John. He wasn't comfortable. He was planning something, and John just didn't know what. "I hope for your people's sake that the wraith cannot follow. You should be aware of the threat of their hive ships. They are active and culling."

"Yeah, we gathered that. We've got the technology to give them a run for their money," John replied and let that dangle. If Rodney McKay was everything that Radek had said, the Genii were not going to want to lose him. But, if they thought they had a shot at allying with greater technology they might go for it. "We've met some pretty nasty aliens back home. Had to develop some defenses to hold our own."

That was him saying, hey...we could be useful to you. He hoped.

"Such as? I am not unfamiliar with your technology, or with 'Ancient technology'. Rodney is a gene-holder, and has done much to show us how to use the Ancestor's gifts.” Huh. Rodney hadn't been a gene holder before, he was sure of that. As one of the strongest gene holders he knew who else was in that small group.

"Well, The Daedalus has shields, various types of missiles, energy weapons and beaming technology," John said giving away generalities. "And the capacity to launch fighter attack craft. Those are my personal favorites." 

He gave a half smile. "Look, Chief...why don't you tell me what the situation is here? We're both military as far as I can tell. We don't have to do a diplomatic dance to get to the point."

"What situation are you asking after?" Kolya pushed open the door in the house, and leaned in to light a candle. "We do have to do a 'diplomatic dance' as you called it. I need to know your intentions here. I need to know if you are transient."

"You need to know if we want our people back?" John said. "The simple answer is 'yes', if they want to come. But I also recognize the situation isn't as clear cut as a rescue. I also recognize that Dr. McKay and Dr. Weir will be assets difficult to just let go off, and that there are obligations. We might well be sticking around out here, so we don't want to upset neighbors and potential allies. If we do stay here... odds are we're going to have a common goal in trying to fight the Wraith so it's in both our interest to find some sort of a solution here... " 

He turned to look at the man, trying to assess what he would do.

"Doctor McKay is more than an asset to me, and more than an asset to the Genii. He is personally responsible for destroying nine hive ships during cullings, and for bringing a level of ability to our battle that we had not previously had. Doctor Weir has helped our people weave alliances with twenty different peoples, and now we fight together against the Wraith. Sergeant Bates currently accompanies Commander Idos Kolya, and serves as his second in battles. And you want me to be complicit in their leaving?"

Huh, so he'd take that as this was not going to be easy. "Chief Kolya, I'm not coming in here demanding them back...but I want them to have the option if they want to. Where I come from, we value freedom of choice a great deal. If Dr. McKay wants to stay with you, or Dr. Weir, then there's not a lot I can do about that although I'd really like to think we could come to some sort of accommodation. But likewise, if they do want out, then they get to do that as well." 

He just wished he was better at this. Kolya automatically distrusted him.

"Rodney could have been a free Genii citizen ten times over. But every year, he renews his Allocation to me. As does Doctor Weir to Commander Sora, and Sergeant Bates to Commander Kolya. Why do you think that is?" He blew out the match he'd struck, and gestured for John to sit down.

Seemed like they weren't just going to dance, they were going to tango. Because that was a step to the left.

"Because he is a resilient man who values your protection and undoubtedly feels gratitude," John said and sat. "But he has family back home. They both do, and friends and undoubtedly they thought they didn't have any choice but to make the best of things." 

He had to remind him of the blood being thicker than water thing. They must have something like that here. "So theoretically...the Allocation, is like a contract? Dr. McKay and Dr. Weir could...just not renew if they wished to return?" 

Wasn't that interesting?

"The Allocation is a term of service, either to myself or the Genii people. It was initially to pay back the debt of life that they incurred against us. In exchange for agreeing to the allocation. Rodney belongs to my house, and I provide him with all that he needs, along with the protection I can afford him. He spends much time off planet, unsupervised, and comes back to me of his own volition." Kolya sat down, posture the false-lazy that John used himself.

"A debt, by your own admission that he has paid off ten times over," John pointed out watching the man look him over. He really wasn't imagining that at all. The dark eyes were actually almost smoldering. 

"So once again we're back to choice. You say he has reasons to stay, I say he has reasons to leave. He's giving you a working strategy - implementing it doesn't have to be down to him."

"It does. My scientists try to keep up with Doctor McKay, but he is still light-years ahead of them in terms of ability." Kolya gestured again for John to sit down. "But if you are staying, perhaps we can work with you."

"So, say we are staying. Find ourselves a nice base somewhere," John said. "Are you saying we could come up with some sort of agreement? A mutual pact to fight the Wraith? Because if that were the case then it wouldn't matter where Rodney chose to spend his time, or Elizabeth..." 

"It would matter less so." Kolya crossed his arms over his chest. "I would consider it simply a mission, if I had reason to believe you would not disappear into the space between stars." Stars, god, and there were all those kinds of signs to John that the Genii were not what they seemed. He should have better read the mission reports, see if they were in there previously.

"Personally, I think we're staying.." John said trying a charming smile. "But the official word has to come through. You know how it can be... "

A mission would do. A mission would get him over with them, in their realm and once he got Rodney to Atlantis, Atlantis wouldn't want him to leave. Atlantis wouldn't let him leave, Atlantis would make him see where he really belonged. And hopefully it would work for Elizabeth and Bates, too.

"I do. It seems that you know where to find the Genii people. Come here if you wish to make contact with us again. Otherwise , I suggest you enjoy the festival." Kolya slid the chair back, eyeing him still.

That was not a disapproving look which was something. "So that's a case of go away and come back when you have something a bit more solid to talk about right?" John said aiming for an innocent tone.

"Go away and do not come back until you have something to offer my people. Three of your people have helped mine immensely, but I have seen how little the bureaucratic machine of your people as a unit can do. We offered interior plans of a Wraith hive ship, and alliance, and you offered us Penicillin in trade. Rodney helped our scientists re-create this substance, and we reached full production levels last year." Kolya stood, and moved around the table as if he were herding John out.

"Oh, I'm sure we can come up with something," John replied standing up then looking Kolya direct in the eyes. He reminded him rather abruptly of Hamil. The look in the eye of a man who believed his cause was righteous and that the ends justified the means. "Dr. McKay is not expert in every field."

"Doctor McKay is my companion and strategic sounding board. I value him personally for more than what he can do." There was a colder edge in his eyes suddenly, a vague tone of ownership.

"And we value him as a loved one as well," John said matching him in his approach. “We’ve come a long way to find him. I've been personally working on finding him for over a year now."

He didn't want him thinking he would meekly let him get away with everything he wanted just because he said so. Maybe Dr. McKay was in love with the man, who knew? And if he wanted to stay, well... 

John would just see. Hell, for all he knew Radek could be with them plotting an escape plan while he spoke with Kolya.

"Him, or the mission itself? Because I was not lying. They are dead. They have been fed upon. We retrieved many pieces of their ships, and parts of uniforms that Doctor McKay helped us identify."

"I came after every single one of them," John said in a reflex and with an intensity that betrayed his careful work at seeming casual about this. "And I'm glad Dr. McKay, Dr. Weir and Sergeant Bates will have the chance to go home if they want to. And we'll look for the others because..." 

Because somebody had taken somebody else’s word that his black hawk had exploded and he was dead and so was Leo and they hadn't looked.

"Because that's the orders I have."

"I understand. But please do not harass Doctor McKay about this when you speak again. He still has the flag we recovered from Doctor Beckett's body." Kolya snuffed the light, and John was pitched into darkness with only the bonfires outside to guide him out. "I am sure that he and your other scientist will be back soon."

"He and Radek are old friends and work colleagues," John said letting his instinct guide him. Kolya was walking very close to him and it was enough to send prickles to the back of his neck. "And Radek also worked with Elizabeth as well. I don't want to interrupt a reunion and I am sorry to hear the news about Doctor Beckett." 

He was sorry to have a confirmed death - sorry not to meet the man who so many people seemed to miss and remember with such fondness. Doctor Biro would be very upset, he knew that and obviously McKay had either been a very close friend of him or more. 

He was inclined to think 'more' applied because of the way Kolya had touched the man and the way he had appreciated the contact.

And it would have all been good and well and understandable, except Atlantis had shown him that scene in the control room, Kolya standing close by Rodney while another Genii cut Rodney's arm open in a straight line from inner elbow to wrist, asking questions while Rodney yelled and tried to escape and eventually answered. Torture, hell, pressure applied in all the right places could bend a man far out of shape.

"The culling of Manara was a misfortune. They were our greatest allies." Kolya was so close to John's side that he could feel the man's gun holster brush his own. "As I said before -- please enjoy the festival."

At least he really hoped it was his holster. Not that he was objecting too much because if that was an avenue that could be explored then he'd willingly explore it if it meant getting them out of there. Although, he wasn't sure if he liked the attraction the man had for him because it felt a little off. Or maybe it was the thought of a man who could order someone tortured and then take him to bed and make him a valued companion. 

"Well, we've gotta hope right? Someone might've made it out...maybe." If they had the 'puddlejumpers' even if the gate was locked out, they could've gotten some away.

People who were part of the SGC were amazingly resourceful. John was going to hope that even a few had gotten away, that even a few had survived. Because there was something off about the way Kolya was angling things, there was something in his head that was telling him that he wasn't an honest man.

"Of course. It might have been possible. Of a population of a quarter of a million, 26 members of the leading council managed to escape." Kolya's voice slipped towards harder, and then they were with the groups of people again. It was a relief to see that his marines were all there, and that none of them were doing more than sipping the drink being offered. "Please, have a drink -- I hope that our people can come to some kind of agreement."

"I am too ...sir," John replied. "We will stay and re-introduce ourselves, then leave and give Dr. McKay, Dr. Weir and Sergeant Bates a chance to think things over before we come back and ...begin more formal negotiations. We appreciate your time and understanding." 

And he wanted to have a quiet word with Dr. McKay and Dr. Weir. Just to sound them out, to see where they'd stand if the opportunity came up. Hopefully Radek was playing it cool, but John knew he couldn't depend on that. Radek had been ecstatic to see Rodney, more than John had really expected. 

Maybe he'd at least worked out why the other man was blindfolded.

"Sir, you might want to be careful about the drink -- it's moonshine. Little..." Markham coughed. "Little strong, sir." 

"Well, let’s just keep it to a little rather than a lot. No more than one of the alcoholic moonshine. " John replied. "And play nice - no galactic incidents if you can help it."

He waited until he had a 'Yessir' and moved on to where he could see Zelenka and McKay talking so fast people around them were looking a bit stunned. He could also see an elegant looking woman, hanging off of every word as well who had to be Dr. Weir, and a couple of his marines who were talking to a man who matched the description of Sergeant Bates. 

"...and then there was giant snake...but there was ZPM and Sheppard was distracting it and I was jumping over to get it... " Radek was telling them his eyes alight.

"I still can't believe they actually got you to do field work." Rodney's mouth was twisted up, a wide smile on his lips. The black fabric stretched over his eyes was stretched over a shape of some kind, not just flat against his skin, and John could see that now as he got closer. "And they actually, I mean, you're actually here to find us - And something to fight the Goa'uld, of course, but we're a little tied up with the wraith and everything the ancients did when they were in Pegasus, and--"

"The system lords are scattered," Radek shrugged. "The Ori is our threat. But we are here to work here, now. To find rest of first mission."

"I still can't believe that Atlantis is still intact," Elizabeth replied and John internally groaned. He should've known.

"Yes! Yes...Wonderful place. So many things and Colonel Sheppard is city's favorite," Zelenka enthused.

"Oh I wouldn't go that far," he said in a semi-drawl as he walked into the conversation. "I see that Radek has been telling tales..." 

Rodney's head turned towards him, and John could feel the intensity of his gaze, could feel Rodney watching him. "You must be Colonel Sheppard. You're a gene-carrier...?" Was that standard practice for big expeditions, or had Radek said that, too?

"Apparently so," John replied lightly. "As you are now so I've just been told." He wasn't going to say anything about degree or intensity because that would be revealing too much. "I've been looking forward to meeting all of you. You got a moment? I don't want to interrupt but there's a few things we should go over." He looked at all of them. 

McKay shifted his posture, and stuck his hands into his pockets, watching them all. And Elizabeth finally stepped forwards, eyeing John and presenting her hand to him. "Colonel Sheppard, we'd be happy to speak with you. None of us ever expected the SGC to get back here."

He shook her hand appreciating the firm grip. "I can understand that. For a while, I don't think the SGC thought they were going to make it back here." He shifted just a little, keenly aware of Dr. Weir's reputation as a paramount diplomat. He was... not so good. Best just to stick to that. "Chief Kolya and I have been having a little chat. We managed not to threaten each other too much. The bottom line is that we want you guys back, if you want to come back, but he is pretty attached to you all. Understandably so. So here's the thing -- We weren't really expecting to waltz off with you now, but... I want you to have the option. We've tentatively agreed that if we are staying around here, we can work together. I'm willing to back any decisions you guys make, because apparently it’s more than a working relationship you've got going on." 

He was surprised to see Bates be the one to look away at that.

"If you want to stay, you stay...you want out, I'll find a way to get you out."

It was the most he could offer, and Rodney tilted his head a little, still staring towards him or whatever the hell he was doing through the blindfold. "I don't think the SGC would ever let us go back to earth, Colonel. Doesn't that make the offer a little... moot? Not to mention that we've helped turn the fight against the Wraith from one where the hunters are taking deer out with Howitzers to one where the deer are walking onto the hunter's buses with bombs strapped to them."

"I have missed over-wrought metaphors," Radek declared quietly, still grinning. "McKay, you are still you. If you want to help ally two groups, why not?"

"I get the fact that you are under a form of contract. I also pointed out by their own admission you could've been free of that ten times over," John replied. "And you know better than anyone that our resources might help swing things around even more." 

Huh. Suicide bombers. With that sort of set up, low tech could take out hi-tech.

"Bullets don't stop them," McKay uttered bluntly. "Their bodies regenerate. Think of... cockroaches. If vampires were actually cockroaches. And this has nothing to do with the allocation, that's..." Rodney waved a hand. Either it didn't matter or it had nothing to do with the conversation. "I've become very attached to a piece of ancient equipment that the SGC would confiscate from me. I know I wouldn't be able to use it out in public, so going home is a no."

"I did wonder how you were seeing me," John asked. Ancient tech - it explained a lot. "You could still go to the SGC and we could guarantee that would remain yours to use, but I'm not going to argue that with you. I want you guys back on our side, and the best way to do that is probably to join the side you are already on. Zelenka is very...keen to work with you again, we need a heads up on what is going on. The talk about the Daedalus is true up to a point and we will still be looking around as well, but I'm willing to bet if there was a culling on Manara like Kolya told me, then the SGC are going to assume that the information about Earth has been compromised and our priority will become refocused to deal with threats." 

"Information about Earth was compromised by Colonel Sumner," Elizabeth told him. She'd been commander of the Atlantis mission, but it was hard to tell who was more in command currently -- she or McKay. "In our initial meeting with the wraith, he gave them an unknown level of information before Major Lorne killed him. It was a mercy killing." 

Not that she seemed to think Lorne was alive any longer to even be court martialed. "So, we've already been compromised. Years ago."

"Until a few days ago, we'd never heard of the Wraith. Now we have, I guess we get to deal with them," John said easily enough. "So, I'm guessing you're not wanting to up sticks just yet?" he asked. 

He was a little disappointed in that but they had found them alive. That was a victory in itself.

That was a victory in itself. Except watching them when he asked that, he could see both of them shift a little, both of their faces change a little.

"Look, I -- we need time, all right?" That was Rodney saying it, blurting it, looking at Zelenka and then back to John. 

John nodded. "Sure," he said like it didn't matter to him what they did, though he knew Radek would know him for a hypocrite after the miracle upon miracle it had taken to get them to the point where they were face to face. "We can do time." 

He glanced over at Zelenka a moment and half smiled as he stepped away a little. "You guys carry on catching up. Sorry I interrupted... Radek, we'll be going soon, but we'll be back in a few days or so to work out things properly if that's okay." 

"As long as we are back." Radek frowned a little, and nudged in closer to Rodney, as if he was going to make the most of his time. There was no tension -- and John was an expert on tension -- but it did look like both of them missed having someone to talk to on the sort of rarefied level of physics the pair of them occupied. 

"Colonel Sheppard, I'd like to speak with you, perhaps over there...?"

"Sure," John said and stepped away a little, letting her guide him out of ear shot. "What can I do for you?"

"I want to go back with you when the time is right for it. I would ask to leave now, but there is strength in numbers and unity, and we have just started to turn this war around." And for a diplomat, she cut to the chase better and more eloquently than John had expected.

John nodded. "Dr. McKay and Sergeant Bates don't seem quite so sure...and I know what you are saying about the time being right." 

He looked at her then, appreciating her poise, wondering if she had been through some ordeal to break her as it seemed Rodney had been subjected to, and possibly Bates as well.

"Rodney has..." Elizabeth paused, and she seemed to be looking for her words before she spoke. It didn't take long. "He has... been under extreme stress from the onset, and I believe that most of it was created to drive him closer to Chief Kolya. With Kolya's attention drifting to the war and leading the Genii people, his control over Rodney is starting to break."

Interesting. "He did something to him didn't he?" John murmured in a low voice. There was something he recognized about the way he held himself. A certain tone in his voice at odd moments. "He's brainwashed him. Don’t worry, Kolya was practically in the verge of cocking his leg and peeing over him to declare him as his territory. I know where he's gone with it."

"I know Bates was physically broken and Idos, Kolya's son, has completely remolded him. He's not the Bates anyone from the SGC would have known. Rodney was blinded by a sedative that the Genii use in state-sponsored brainwashing. I don't think he's been given the drug for a couple of years now, but..."

John tried to control a grimace and deliberately did not look over at McKay. "And you Dr. Weir, how were you treated?"

"More honestly than either of my friends were, I believe. I was allocated to Sora, Tyrus' daughter, and she is very politically savvy. She had many friends who were Athosians. They were evacuated with the rest of the mission from the city before the storm."

"To Manara..." John was mentally counting how hard it would be to break the brainwashing on Rodney. "How accurate is Kolya's account of the culling there?"

It was going to be hard. He knew from his own experiences that after being made so vulnerable, the slightest hint of concern, of warm feeling was magnified into something vital and all encompassing in comparison.

"I am not sure. They had as many Gateships with them as possible pilots, and as I suspect you may know, they cloak. On the other hand, the wraith dial in to a planet that they cull, so their victims can't escape. What I know is that at least one ship was destroyed, and with the destruction of the area, more is hard to tell."

"So it is possible someone got away," John replied musing on it for a moment. "But they found the body of Dr. Beckett?"

"So it seems. Rodney still has the flag, from his shoulder patch, and the dogtags from the body. The face was visually unidentifiable, but he was the only Scottish member of the mission." And the chances that anyone could anticipate a Scottish flag and pre-make one?

Slim. Because they wouldn't even know what it meant. "Look, I'm hoping to try for genuine missions, see if I can prise loose a little of the death grip. But if it comes to it, I will get you back. I promise. We've got beaming technology if necessary, but I know Dr. McKay could work something out if his loyalties are still to the Genii. But I want you to know I won't leave you here."  
He emphasized that.

"Good. Tell General O'Neill about us, everything you can. There's a group that rivals the Genii in power, and I've been working towards getting them to ally. The Trinarians. I don't know the gate address of the planet they're from, and it was never anyone we came across in the Database... " It was a little like a core dump, right on top of his head. There was a movement, the redhead looking for Elizabeth, and then Elizabeth leaned forwards and clasped both of his hands. "Have a safe journey back to your ship."

And if that sentence wasn't four times as loud as everything she'd said before that, John would have chewed the flashlight off of his P-90.

"Thanks Dr. Weir," John replied easily enough. Yeah, time to go. "Dr. Zelenka... we'll be leaving now." He glanced around at the marines and jerked his head a little. "Thank you for your hospitality. We will be back to discuss a more formal alliance."

"By all means, do." That was Sora speaking, her voice mellow and maybe Weir was right. Maybe she was the level headed one. He preferred to not think about the father and son brainwashing team, even if he did look towards Rodney and Radek. Radek, right, couldn't leave without him.

He inclined his head to her. "Give my regards to Chief Kolya. A pleasure to finally meet you Dr. McKay, Sergeant Bates. I look forward to seeing you soon." He waited as Radek looked reluctant to leave and then startlingly hugged Rodney again muttering something he couldn't catch under his breath to him.

It was like corralling cats, but they all moved towards him, and then he was marching them off, knowing that the Genii were all watching them. No-one stopped talking when they left, and it seemed like it was any one of the probably hundred strange moments those people had in contacting other peoples.

But no matter, he had found some of them, and that he was getting his team out of there safely, he couldn't help but feel a sense of failure that when he made the puddlejumper take off, his team talking in the back behind him, he didn't have an extra three passengers.

But he would one day, John was sure of that.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

_We will bring you back home._

The words hung in his head, heavy at the back of his mind, because now, *now* they came back for him? After he'd given up, after he'd stomped down every sick sick sad little hope of his and had just gone back to hoping they weren't being destroyed by space aliens. And there they were, back, and the *city* was alive, and god, god, their military commander had glowed. He'd never seen anything so beautiful. Kolya was leaves in a fall wind, and fire, and Elizabeth was cool and water and the walls of Atlantis, and Zelenka looked like green grass and aspen trees, the sensation of excitement and progress tangible, but Sheppard was like an aurora diamond, bright and brilliant and opalescent, like he'd already ascended and had just stepped down to grace them with his presence. 

It made Rodney wonder what Carson would have looked like. 

It made him wonder, too, what to do now. Kolya had been quiet on the walk back home, and Rodney had been willing to oblige with the silence, caught up in the images around him and how much duller they seemed compared to Sheppard, because, Jesus, he was beautiful in the ancient view. Breath-taking beautiful, more than supermodel in real life beauty. 

"You are thinking on your... countrymen," Kolya said after a while. "Their arrival has unsettled you." He sounded a little unsettled himself. 

Rodney hadn't bothered to shift his visual view since the festival had started. Seeing people that way had started to really mean something to him almost six or seven months after he'd started to wear it. People had a glow, a heroic texture to them when they were willing to die for a cause. He’d seen that flare up on many visits off-world and it helped him pinpoint who would be good to approach to take his bombs. It made him wonder if Sheppard’s glow was part of that as he seemed to be like that all the time, which was just weird. He was pretty sure normal people couldn’t live like that all the time. 

"I'm unsettled," Rodney admitted quietly. "I don't know what to do." 

"Why?" Kolya asked. "Has what is important changed since we were last together? We were celebrating another victory. Ten hive ships in such space of time Rodney. An amazing achievement." 

"I... " They were nearly back to the house, and Rodney didn't particularly want to argue on the doorstep. "No, and we'll have 11 soon. But they're my people." 

Kolya's 'fire' tinge intensified. "You are one of us," he said finally. "I thought that you wished to stay with us." 

"I do." Rodney swallowed, and shifted closer to Kolya, and fuck, he could feel his stomach flip-flopping in indecision. "But if they're here now, we can use them. Same argument I made why it was a good idea to ally with, with what was left of us before Manara... happened." 

And old argument and one that sometimes actually stirred Kolya to a semblance of anger. "Yes, we can use them and we will Rodney. I want us to win this. I don't want your strategy to be the sole defense of the Genii, because they will work it out and thwart it in time. We have to hit them and hit them again, not giving them a chance to brace themselves. To do that we need you. " He paused a little. "I want you to stay Rodney, but I do not wish to stifle you. This Colonel Sheppard said your people prized freedom and choice above most things... he will let you stay with us if you choose it." 

Whatever it was. When they did reach the doorstep, Rodney leaned in, nudging close to Kolya. "I, I don't know what to think. I could, I know they want me to go back, but I'm, I can't think of leaving." 

"Then don't. Stay, because I... I want you to stay," Kolya said. "You let them go because they would never come. You made another life where you are appreciated, the hero of our world and many others. I'm not going to stop you from seeing them."

And what had he been back on Earth? Second fiddle to Sam Carter. Exiled to Siberia. Sent to another Galaxy and abandoned on a one way mission -- they wouldn't even send a second one until all the safety measures had been realized, according to Zelenka, and he didn't know how wounding that was even if it was smart. He'd been nothing back on earth, nothing at all; just someone that everyone hated and occasionally tried to poison with citrus, and there, with the Genii, people listened when he talked. People cared. He was a hero and Kolya cared. "We can use them," Rodney reiterated quietly. 

Kolya opened the door. "Then tell me how you would use them?" he said. "The Colonel failed to mention the city of the Ancestors was still intact, but what does it actually mean?" 

"It means that the weapons systems are intact. It means that the anci--ancestors knowledge, all of it, could be available to us." It meant that he could go home, as easy as walking through a gate. 

"But from your own admission, the Wraith forced the ancestors to abandon the city," Kolya said immediately walking through to their living room to get himself a decent drink rather than the rotgut they used in the festivals. "Is there anything there to actually beat them." 

"The Ancients were relatively pacifistic and unwilling to use the kinds of techniques that we're willing to." Rodney lingered, closed and locked the door behind him. Fantastic, he'd driven Kolya to drink. Or Sheppard had. Someone had. 

Kolya poured him a glass and then another for himself, bringing it over. "Our will to succeed is great. And you are a genius. And I saw you watching the colonel. What is your opinion?” 

"He's a gene holder. He's... he's something. I think he's close to ascension, I'm not sure. It's amazing to see. The visor shows him like... like nothing I've ever seen." It was a mental image he wanted to hold onto and rub raw, keep clutched close inside of his head because it was beautiful and all his and while sometimes he wished he could share, he didn't want to share that one. 

Rodney took the glass, and let his fingers brush Kolya's, hoping to pacify him. 

The other man was still a moment before he half chuckled. "I see. If it helps he was.. . someone I might've considered taking for Allocation if circumstances dictated there was a possibility. I believe the majority of the revelers were watching him. " 

"All I know is that he glows. It..." Rodney shook his head, and watched the fire shift, watched it burn deep into the center of Kolya, and he shifted himself, moved to sit at Kolya's feet. He didn't do it, much, but sometimes things felt like they were falling apart, because they *were* falling apart, and there was some measure of comfort in the gesture, in reasserting to himself his place. 

There was a comfort in knowing that, a security. Kolya had done what he had promised - protected him, praised him when he did well, showed him affection and care. And all the time there was a very small voice pointing out that he sounded like he was describing a pet poodle or something rather than a real relationship. 

"He is interesting. Not someone you have known before I take it. Like your good friend Zelenka." 

"Colleague. We worked together in Atlantus." Rodney knew he wasn't a pet poodle, knew it, knew he shouldn't need to do what he was doing, but he rested against Kolya, leaned his temple against Kolya's knee, and reached up to unfasten the visor, feeling it loosen itself from his head. 

It was making himself vulnerable and he could sense the tension in Kolya's muscles vanish. "Is he as good as you?" Kolya asked innocently. 

"No. He was supposed to be on the mission with us, and he would have been the next in line for my job, but he never would have had my job." Rodney clutched the visor loosely in his lap with his free hand, and just let, made, himself relax. He was handing control over to Kolya, because he didn't want it just then, didn't want to have to make decisions when he didn't know what to decide. 

"I thought as much, or they would not want you so desperately," Kolya said, his fingers trailing through his short hair. "Ah, Rodney... we have made a tentative agreement that you will work with them, but you are still of the Genii. I want to know of the City, more of it, if there are Wraith killing weapons there." 

"If there are, I'll find them. I want this finished. I want to... I want to win this." Kolya's fingers in his hair, the darkness in his vision was a dual comfort, and it made the feel, made touch that much more intense. "We will win." And there would be no more talk of what he would and would not do, but function. 

"We will win this," Kolya replied softly. "That's what it's all about..." The hand touched his cheek. "Come to bed Rodney - we haven't been together for too long." 

"We haven’t." Because they were both busy, because there were things to do, because they needed to accomplish, needed to do, and Rodney knew he had -- if he didn't stop, if he didn’t take breaks, he could make more breakthroughs, but he needed to stop sometimes. 

Kolya made sure that happened, and it would be good to feel him, be grounded by him. Even if he was wondering all the time what it would like be to touch that man who looked like an angel to his eyes. 

Maybe one day, he’d find out. It didn’t matter. For the moment, for the moment, he had a purpose and a target, a mission, and Kolya’s hand sliding down his back, Kolya’s hand guiding him to stand up and then to bed.

* * *

They didn't usually get Carson involved with negotiations, until late in the proceedings and they weren't keen on him going off world more than he had to. It made them nervous if he wasn't around near the chair, or close enough to get back. Despite more and more people having the gene treatment, most were either not confident enough to try and use the Chair, or were needed elsewhere. There was a promising Othaerian lad who was going to be fine with some training, but even Carson had to admit he was a wee bit young to pick it up right now. 

Any way, Teyla and Halling had been negotiating and trading with the Yulari and he'd done a little bit of medical magic and they were firm friends. They were also firm friends with the Genii, and that was what made this a particularly important meeting.   
He tried very hard to remember what Teyla had informed him about the Yulari. They did not shake hands, they bowed just a little from the waist with the right hand place flat against the stomach. He was sure he was going to forget that at some point. And they revered the matriarchal line as the source of wisdom and wealth in their people. 

He was getting his bows right at least. 

And he loved his mother, but he also really hoped it wasn't going to be the topic of conversation. It was probably the whole reason why they were comfortable trading with Teyla and Halling -- Teyla was clearly in control, clearly the Matriarch of the Athosians if there was one. But they dealt with the Genii somehow, didn't they? 

He was beginning to think that he should've appointed someone else to be a representative, but their Council of Mothers was paying them a visit so they had to muster up their own Council to greet them. At least the conference room was comfortable and refreshments were already there. 

"Dr. Beckett, may I introduce Matriarch Ussa, Matriarch Illusani and Ser-Matriarch Yulari-ssallan?" Teyla said reeling off the sibilants with practiced ease. 

If he remembered rightly, the Ser-Matriarch was in over all charge and they all took the name Yulari as a prefix to their normal name. He really should've looked over the notes more than just the night before but there had been that thing with plague on Kerrinal and... 

"A pleasure to greet all of you," he said and remembered to move his hand up to his heart when he bowed to the Ser-Matriarch. He was sure Teyla was smiling at his efforts. In that way that mothers smiled when their kid was trying but not quite succeeding, he was sure. He hated to think that his negotiating skills were on par with a small child's crayon art, but it was a reality he suspected he had to face. 

"It is a pleasure to see you." Ser-Matriarch Yulari-ssallan returned the gesture, smoother, more natural. "Your people have admirable honor." 

"Thank you. As do yours." He was totally winging it now. "We appreciate you traveling here for this council. Teyla Emmagen has spoken very highly of your people and our trading agreement has been most beneficial all our peoples." 

He was proud of himself. He remembered nearly all of the speech he had scribbled down and had been memorizing while making up the latest batch of anti-wraith corrosive antidote. 

Which was a gamble in and of itself, but if he had to treat one more wound that didn't heal, that led to an amputation for lack of a better solution... 

"It has. Your medicines have allowed us to save the lives of many of our peoples, and life and the preservation of it is very important to my people." 

Teyla had arranged for refreshments to be served which was just another thing he hadn't thought of. But he wasn't here for his hospitality skills. "Ser-Matriarch, Teyla has told me that you have dealt with the Genii, and allies of the Genii. We understand that that they are a powerful Confederation... " 

He glanced at Teyla to see if he was approaching things correctly. There was a bare nod of her head, barely visible. 

"We are. We have had many good dealings with the Genii people and their allies, and consider them strong aid in our continued survival as a people." 

"I will tell you the truth Ser-Matriarch, we have been cautious about approaching them for an alliance," Carson said frankly. "Because a couple of years ago, during a natural disaster that meant our homes and people were under threat, they chose then to try and invade and steal our friends from us. As a consequence we lost people who were very dear to us." 

He didn't need to act the truth behind that statement. Even now thoughts of Rodney, Elizabeth and all those they lost hurt him to consider, but he had all the people here, all the Trinarians to think of and he knew an attack was coming. "But we have heard that those who ordered such an attack are no longer alive and we are wondering if now is a time to make an alliance." 

"Chief Cowan was a short sighted man with a temper. We had traded with them before the shift of power. I have dealt with their new chief, and he is a reasonable man, intent on the betterment of all peoples involved in the alliance. " The Ser-Matriarch looked to her fellows, and took a slow, calm-seeming sip of the tea that Teyla had prepared. "I think if you wished to deal with them, it would be wise." 

"Certainly there have been great advancements made since he has been in power," Matriarch Illusani said looking at them both. "Though it intrigues me why you would feel you need alliance? Your resources are many." 

"I foresee a point in time approaching very rapidly where the Wraith will be forced by the successes of people such as the Genii and the Trinarians to band together and come in force to eradicate the threat." Carson replied in a grave and truthful tone. "Unity will be our only means of survival." 

"Together," Teyla suggested, "our ability to fight the wraith and coordinate attacks could be what is needed to end the threat in a way that previous generations have been unable to accomplish." 

The Ser-Matriarch nodded. "I suspect that you did not request this meeting to ask merely our advice," she said quirking a look at Carson. 

"Aye, well you would be correct. We are still a wee...a little bit cautious and were hoping you would act as an intermediary on our behalf," he said relieved to get to the point. 

"I will, assuming that I can reconfirm our usual trading ratios." She seemed pleased, oddly, by his bluntness, and maybe that was all right. Maybe he wasn't as much of a hash-up as a leader as he feared. "Your vaccines have done more than words can explain. The wraith strive to pick us off. We do not need sickness helping them." 

Carson nodded. "We seek to form safe places for people to escape to where the Wraith cannot follow. We are more thinkers than warriors, but warriors have joined us and we believe that if the warriors of the Genii are allied with our thinkers then there is a chance we can do more than survive." 

He just hoped that Evan wasn't insulted at his implication that they were 'weak'. They didn't have enough military there anymore. Just enough to protect themselves, he knew. Evan seemed to know it, too. 

"The Genii have thinkers, too. Chief Kolya's Allocated is a... grating but brilliant man. He can see people's souls. It has proven very useful for evaluating questionable allies." 

Carson reflected on the fact that a lot of brilliant men and women seemed to have that grating edge to them. He couldn't help but think of Rodney then, like he did every day, but no one could ever have said he could see someone’s soul. Not even metaphorically – in fact quite the opposite. "Really? Well, that weapon of theirs is explained at least," he said. "How does he see other people’s souls?" 

He wondered what someone would see if they looked his. Something shattered into little pieces maybe or something withered and dying. 

"He wears a gift from the ancestors over his eyes, for they are closed," Matriarch Illusani explained, with a vague closing gesture of her hand over her own eyes. "Those in the Genii leadership balance each other, and they are very efficient in action. They were not before." 

"He sounds very interesting..." Caron said noticing Ronon who had been leaning against the wall standing guard, straighten up with abrupt interest. He had to be the mysterious 'Blind Man' he and Ford had been tracking around planet after planet. "I hope a day will come when I will be able to meet him. How would you suggest we approach the Genii?" 

"They do not appreciate direct approaches," the Ser-Matriarch told him almost gently. "We have a meeting with them in a few days. I will broach the topic with them then." 

"Should we send a gesture of good faith?" Carson asked. Some people they had come across were pleased and others insulted at the offer of gifts. It was a bit of a bloody minefield truth be told, at least to him. Most people tended to lose their hang-ups when they were in need of medical assistance and that made things a lot easier. 

She seemed to think about it for a moment, and then she inclined her head slightly. "I believe such a token would be well received." 

"Then we will arrange for a suitable gift to be ready for when you are ready to leave," Carson replied. He was half thinking about some of the antidote, but they might take that as some sort of insult. On the other hand, if they had a gene holder there as they apparently did, then maybe one of the small Ancient Tech items they had might be suitable. 

"We feel we should also inform you that there is another race most recently allied with the Genii who seem most like you," Matriarch Ussa said in a soft voice. "Word of them have spread, for they have many marvels with them and like yourselves have done many good deeds for no reward. Often they are seen with the Allocated of Chief Kolya." 

Which was interesting, because Carson was inclined to mark that man, whatever Allocated meant, as their blind bomb maker. Gene-holding bomb maker. 

"Do they come from a planet with a gate address?" Teyla asked. 

"We do not know," Ussa replied. "They have flying ships though. Ones that can appear and disappear at will. I myself have seen this, and seen it fly from sight in a few heart beats. There are other flying ships that look like hawks with crooked wings that have been seen flying against the Wraith fighters." 

Hawks with crooked wings... Carson blinked a moment and looked around for Evan. Was he stretching it a little thinking that sounded like one of those fighters. A 302 or whatever it was? 

"Have you met any of these newcomers personally?" he asked surprised his voice was not cracking. 

"Yes." The Ser-Matriarch said that, and she seemed content to not interrupt her associates' words unless she had something to add. "Their titles are Kernels and Majers, Sar-gents and Doctors. They have weapons as your people's weapons, and speak to the air to call each other back to a location." 

He couldn't hold back his excitement then. "Can you remember any names?" he asked leaning forwards. This was very unexpected, but it *sounded* like there were people from Earth here again. In Pegasus. Dear God, if they were... 

She looked thoughtful for a brief moment. "Kernel Shep-hard, and a Doctor Zahlen-ka. There is a Sar-gent Cadman, who we very much liked. She is proof that their society is not male-aligned only." Which was why Teyla and the Athosians and Simpson had been such assets in dealing with them, more than they usually were, but... 

"Zelenka? Doctor Zelenka... " Carson had to swallow abruptly and push down the emotion that was threatening. "He is...I worked with him." He looked up at Evan and he nodded as well. Presumably he had recognized one of the names as well as Zelenka. "Ser-Matriarch, you have brought us unexpected good news. These people are indeed from our home, that we thought lost to us." 

"Then should I be attempting to put you in contact with them, rather than the Genii?" she asked, eyes a little keener. "For we have seen many peoples separated and in this time of unification for battle I can think of no great unity than of one people." 

Carson thought hard. "Not instead of...if they are here, there will not be many of them." They would have to have come by ship. "We will still need to talk to the Genii, but if we can prevail upon you again Ser-Matriarch, should one of the newcomers be there when you meet the Genii, I would ask you to take them a private message." 

Although he half wanted to run out through the nearest Stargate and start looking for them. 

Because it meant *home*. It meant safety and getting, god, it meant he wouldn't have to be the god-damned leader anymore! It meant they could get help. 

"Of course. If you need time to compose your message..." He knew they would be happy to see the city, would be happy to see the lives in the Trinarians. 

"I would appreciate it," Carson replied. "Teyla would you mind showing our guests anything that they would like to see? Major Lorne, I would appreciate your assistance with the message please." 

He couldn't stop himself saying please. 

"Of course, sir." Lorne smiled, and finally stepped away from the walls, while Teyla rose. 

"Perhaps you would like to see our teaching areas?" Education was a luxury, and for a people to have the ability to mix learning with fighting a war in terms they were capable of... It was something Carson knew would appeal to them. He knew it, but at the same time he couldn't even finish that thought because there were people from the SGC, from earth, in Pegasus. 

He stood as Teyla ushered them outside and then found himself a piece of paper they had traded for. "I don't bloody believe it...I..." He had to sit down again rapidly because he was practically shaking. "Which name did you recognize?" 

"Cadman, and Zelenka, of course. Cadman was an explosives expert." Lorne grinned as he approached Carson. "She used to tap-dance, too. Nothing says good ol' US of A like a tap-dancing explosives expert, does it? I've kind of missed shit like that. They must have rebuilt the Prometheus." 

"Yes, and not only that they've got something that sound a little like the Gateships," Carson replied. "I don't know what to write, or how much. There is a possibility it could fall into the hands of the Genii and I'm not immediately comfortable with revealing our gate address to them, though I would to Zelenka." He shook his head actually smiling and feeling it pull on muscles he wasn’t used to. 

"Huh. So let's think of giving them our gate address in an Earth context. Something that we'd know, and they wouldn't?" 

"Zelenka could figure out a mildly cryptic code. If we can figure one out. " Carson said trying to think. "Don't the military have some training mnemonic for the gate symbols? Making them letters?" 

"Letters,” Lorne agreed. "Unfortunately, Milky way and Pegasus gate addresses look different." 

"Bloody hell, why is it so complicated... " Carson groaned. "Okay, so how did they work that system out? Clockwise from the outside spiral in? Maybe we tell them to assume that familiar format and then give them the code?" 

"Yeah, but you can't just say 'Okay, take the alphabet like we used to do in SGC training'..." Lorne startled a little beside him, and reached to take Carson's pen. "Shit, actually? We could. 'As we were trained to do', and then the letter combinations."   
"As we were trained to do when we weren't watching the world series..." Carson suggested with a grin. "Or whatever it was that Cadman or Zelenka enjoyed doing." 

"Tap-dancing? Either one, but I'd go for world series. It's very... there's no way there's a Pegasus equivalent." Lorne started to write, and did use the world series. "Right, now for the letters." 

"You better do that bit... I'm not sure I remember the system ," Carson admitted. He thought he did but he didn’t want to trust their hope of rescue to his slightly strained recollection. 

"Yeah, I've got it." Lorne's voice was quiet, and he seemed to be thinking before he made each piece of lettering clear and bold and deliberate. "Can you imagine if we could go back home again?" 

He wasn't sure that he could. It was like things like that ended when his own personal hope died. It was going to be complicated because things were important here and now and when he'd filled the emptiness in his life with work, not being here working was difficult to reach for. 

"I'm not sure if I can... I don't know if I am going to believe it until someone is standing in front of me," Carson said watching him write such a simple message but with some many possibilities there. 

Help, mostly. They needed to stay and they needed help, and he wasn't sure he could go back, because what was there for him on earth? A lovely lab, he was sure, and perhaps his mother was still alive. 

But that was it. 

It was a sad, shaky little thought that he usually worried about late at night when he was wondering what was keeping him going and he wasn't actually sure any more unless it was the echoes of other peoples hopes. But that was no reason to tear down Evan's hope. He had family at home, he had people there, maybe waiting for him. He had men who longed to see Earth again. 

He took the piece of paper, rolled it, and reached for the basic sealing wax and the winged horse stamp on of the marine had carved for him when they had been recovering. It had become the Trinarian symbol, meaning nothing to the people of Pegasus, but should someone from Earth ever come, they would find scattered goods over the galaxy with that mark as an alert that someone was still alive out here. 

"On the bright side, if they don't get it right, at least the Genii won't know where we are. Looks like the blind guy we've been looking for isn't just allied with the Genii but one of them." Evan leaned a hip against the table, and Carson could feel Evan watching him while he sealed the note. 

"Part of the new command," Carson said. He grimaced a little. "If you hadn't come back with reports of Hive ships massing, I would not be considering this as a course of action. But I can't see we have a choice. " 

Sometime soon, he would be in that Chair again trying to find the Hive ship 'sweetspot' Aiden was always talking about. 

"We don't. And it sounds like the group the SGC sent are okay working with them." Fighting wraith with them. With Asgard technology, they could, they could do all sorts of things Carson knew he wasn't fully envisioning yet. 

"Well, it would certainly be nice to have a sizeable warship on *our* side if it came to a battle." Carson admitted. "And we'll have to have some Gateship bombs ready and to see if the scientists have *finally* managed to make an effective remote flying system. I can fly the bloody things in a formation but I need to be able to send them where I want them to go. And I am not hearing any more of that nonsense about suicide pilots." 

He sealed the scroll and turned as Evan smiled back at him. 

That sort of decision probably made him a crappy leader, but it wasn't the sort of thing he could just do if there were other possibilities to explore. 

And if he was really, really lucky, soon, he could leave that sort of decision behind.

* * *

He wasn't sure if Atlantis was heaven or hell. 

Rodney supposed it could be purgatory. Being there, being a quick jog away from the only Stargate that would take him back to earth, working with Zelenka like nothing had happened, like they were all okay and just the lucky survivors, and then he went back to Kolya, and Kolya was pleased and angry at the same time, and Rodney... Rodney hated it. Hated going back and forth, hated being expected on all sides to make a decision already. 

"I want you to blank your mind." 

Sheppard was laying, lit up by the energy of the command chair and he had resist the urge to look at the man in Ancient view, because he'd not be able to think. 

"Shouldn't take long," he replied in that half drawl and he could hear the amusement there. 

"I'm sure. From what I remember, they trained you Airforce guys well for that. O'Neill still a General, or has he gotten himself blown up?" Rodney tapped at the touch-screen laptop pad, and god, he'd missed things like that, Technology at his fingertips, even if having to do all of his own calculations by hand had probably made him a better thinker. 

"He managed the blowing things up thing a few times, but he's still there. Still General. He was pretty glad to have another gene-holder handy," Sheppard answered and he was definitely watching him again. The man seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time watching him. He noticed it because he was trying to do the same back. "So... mind’s a blank, what do you want next?" 

It was hard to watch someone without getting caught when they were watching you back. "First, don't let the database overwhelm you. But I want you to think about possible ZPM locations. With two, this city can both function and recharge itself to a degree. With three, this city can also pull out full-scale manufacturing." 

"You finally got the ‘GPS’ hooked up then?" Sheppard asked, as if he didn't know full well what Rodney had been spending the last few hours doing. "Okay, I'm trying it..." 

There was stillness and a silence even he attempted to make the connection. 

"I am telling you that the power balance ratio is not high enough," Zelenka muttered through the radio into Rodney’s ear. "Need more power to initiate data upload. Cannot locate things without base map of galaxy uploaded to device." 

"Hello, what do you think I *did* when I was here for the better part of a year when you were still on earth doing god knows what? The base map is there, and the long-range sensors should work well enough with just one zpm to reach half of this quadrant, so just shut up and let me work, I know what I'd doing. Power balance ratio is high enough for government work." Rodney switched his view, and he could see the chair's living circuitry passing energy between itself and Sheppard, interacting with him. 

It was quite strange because he could see the energy from the City literally crawling all over the man and that really gave him thoughts he wasn't quite going to admit to. He could see a core of concentrated energy pushing its way inwards, penetrating the man’s energy field and Sheppard stiffening in reaction and then melting into it and there was just *no* way that the Ancients weren't some sort of perverts because that was practically porn going on there. 

"I think I've got the connection..." 

And Rodney had the connection between his eyes and his dick, and that was a damn shame. He shifted, hunched forwards a little, still looking at the Command Chair. "Good, now let it flow outwards and you really have no idea what this looks like to me, Jesus, this doesn't look good in any view." He bet in ancient view it'd be blinding, too brilliant for words, but it was all porn in everything from infrared to circuitry and energy flows. 

"Okay, I'm... letting go now." 

And Sheppard was in on it as well. And the way he was breathing, he had to be putting that on. The man was nearly panting and groaning...if you used your imagination, he was. 

Rodney had a definite attraction to him and he didn't know why. He had Kolya, fantastic lover. He had his memories of Carson. He didn't need this thrown in the pot as well. 

It was bad enough trying to work out what was up and what was down in a world where he was expected to do everything he could for *two* peoples. "You know, it'd be great if someone were here who could see the holograms..." And it made sense that he'd be able to, but it was work to see his laptop screen, good old LCD, and harder still to perceive images that floated in air, energy patterns that lacked the visual keys most people used. 

"Wait..." John's hand was reaching out to him. "Rodney... just sit here where I can reach you a moment okay?" 

He had no idea what he was talking about only that more and more links were pushing through from the chair. 

"Fine, fine, but if you start to pet my head, I'm not going to be responsible for my actions." He shifted, and sat instead of crouching by the Chair. The perverted ancient sex-toy looking Chair. 

"I will be doing that... up to a point," Sheppard replied and his fingers were there, touching his face, careful and gentle even as he inched them up towards his eyes. 

"You know, uh..." Jesus, he had faintly callused fingertips, and Rodney let his vision slide a little, slipping into ancient view where the resolution was unpredictable but the world was easier to navigate. 

Then the finger tips were feeling over the visor and both hands were cupping around his face and there was a bright flash in his eyes and ...pictures. Actual pictures. Holograms transmitted directly into his head from the Chair to the Visor, using John as a conduit. 

He was *seeing* things. 

"God." It was seeing, real seeing like he used to, and everything was vibrant and sharp and it made his head hurt, but it was there like it was right in front of his eyes in dark space. "Okay, okay, There's gate addresses and I need to write this down..." 

"Yeah..." The word was soft. Maybe Sheppard was tired. "I couldn’t get full from empty though. There's...way more here than back in the Milky Way." 

"Possibly it was developed as a power source after they came to Pegasus. They left Earth to escape the plague, and settled here, and only left after the Wraith grew too strong. They created them, we think..." Rodney reached for a pen, but he was trying to not move his head as he scribbled what he could of the gate addresses. There was no telling if anyone would be able to read them. 

"Rodney? Working or not?" Zelenka broke in on the radio. "Much fluctuations... strange. Much energy running through the Chair. Dr. Biro not sure if safe yes?" 

"It's safe," John cut in immediately. 

"Here. Go back to, go back to projecting and Zelenka can check to see if I wrote the gate addresses down in any semblance of..." Rodney waved his laptop, but he kept his attention on what Sheppard was still sharing with him, beautiful crystal clear *reality* inside of his head. 

His hand was warm against his skin and he thought he could feel a touch more than just professional contact. He had gotten used to his way of seeing. He could see people’s personalities painted in texture and dynamic color. He wanted to look at him in Ancient mode now because he wanted to know if he was reading the wrong messages from this man. 

And all he could see, still, was the hologram. "Sheppard? John?" 

"Mmm?" came the quiet response. "Oh right... sorry." 

The hand moved away and the images vanished, returning him to the now familiar data stream. 

It dulled down in his own brain, and even if his head was left aching, it had been amazing. Amazing, and he switched to ancient view, looking intently at Sheppard. 

Every time it hit him. No one could be that beautiful and be real – all diamond and aurora borealis in opal fire. But he was look for something specific beneath that glow and there it was... Shots of intense desire like sparks crawling across a dark sky in a swarm of brilliant light. 

He wanted Rodney. He had no idea why, but Sheppard wanted him. 

"Turn your radio off." Rodney reached up, turned his own off, staring at John and the sparks and god, the Chair was almost overwhelming too but he didn't want to see if the chair wanted him. 

John didn't even ask why, he just did it. And then looked at him as if he was waiting for him to do something, say something. 

Or so Rodney guessed. All he could see was the form, the glow. "You want me. I mean, in the hot and dirty way, and I can't figure out why, and it's..." 

Sheppard laughed just a little. ”You can see that?" he half asked, half stated. "Yeah, I guess I do. There's nothing strange about it, I just... like you. I want to... " He stopped a moment. "You don't have to worry Rodney, I'm not going to make a move without invitation." 

"I'm not worried." More curious than anything. "You have no idea what you look like to me. You look like someone's put a halogen lamp behind an opal-diamond blend and that’s it, and I can see these tiny glittering sparks in the center of your body..." And he couldn't see faces or expressions, and maybe no-one really got that. 

"Sounds cool." And he sounded sincere about that. "Here's the thing – get Zelenka to explain about me sometime. He'll do a better job than I will. But you press every button I've got Rodney and I just want to.. . kiss you or something." 

"Isn't that collaborating with the enemy?" He was glad their radios were off, even if it meant Radek would come running to see what was going on probably shortly. So they didn't have long. 

"You're not my enemy Rodney," John murmured even as he sat up a little. The fingers were touching his cheek again and he could feel Sheppard leaning close. And then a light brush of lips against lips, searing in their tentative touch. 

Kolya, Rodney decided as he leaned up, was going to, do something, he didn't know, but he leaned into the kiss because he hadn't felt quite like that in a long time, free and mind thick with muddled thoughts at the same time, exhilarated like he was getting away with something instead of merely rising to expectations. 

And it was strange and also like rediscovering what it was all about because John didn't push, he *invited*. Invited him in, let him choose what he wanted and that was... not something he was used to. The warmth of him, the hand touching him as if he were something precious, the kiss that was going on forever and the patterns in front of his eyes all to do with fireworks going off in his head.

And it was hard to tell what part of him was responding so brilliantly, or whether it was the visor or just John himself, John lit up like that and so bright, those tiny sparks of sight spreading into something more, something full body that echoed the way fingers slid back, laid at the base of his neck, let him tip his head up for better friction, better lip on lip contact. 

There was something in it that he hadn't realized had been missing from Kolya's kisses. It wasn't the intensity because the Genii Chief could kiss fantastically with passion and skill, but it was something less definable. Something _genuine_ which he could've gone his whole life not realizing was lacking if not for this here and now. He wanted him. Sheppard wanted him and he might not really understand why but he was going to ask Zelenka about this guy, because the kissing was stirring things in him that he hadn't felt for a long time. 

Not since Carson, and _that_ had been genuine, real want and tolerance and okay, fighting, but it had been normal instead of whatever it was he and Kolya did and not as strange and needy in the same fucked up ways, so Rodney shifted closer to John, fingers feeling along the edge of his jaw, and he hoped to god no-one was seeing any of the kinds of power spikes _he_ was feeling. 

John was making these quiet noises and holy fuck, that was hot. He never got the feeling that Kolya _needed_ him, not like this, not like Sheppard wanting with every touch. It was all about him giving to Rodney, Rodney needing him not this almost magnetic attraction and pull to do more, touch more, feel more... 

"Bolí mě hlava..." That quick muttering behind them made Rodney startle, but he couldn't really jerk back without completely losing his bearings, even if it did startle him back a little, breaking the kiss. 

It was a little hard to forget that ‘don't ask, don't tell’ still applied to the Americans. He heard John clear his throat a little and he really wanted to see what he looked like now, with his mussed hair and... Rodney stood up there, even as he saw John raise a hand. "Hey Radek. Would you believe the kiss of life?" 

He would've sworn the guy would've denied there was any kissing going on at all. 

"With energy levels all crazy, perhaps. But." Radek cleared his throat a little. "Received incoming gate transmission from Genii, requesting Doctor McKay go back now." 

"Well, a deal’s a deal..." John said, even though anyone could've heard the reluctance in his voice. "Looks like I've kept you out past your curfew. I'll apply for your time to go looking at these gate addresses." 

Apply. Rent one Doctor McKay, get free make-out session. "Right." Rodney cleared his throat, and shifted back finally, switching modes so he could find the laptop. "I wrote down the gate addresses but I have no idea if it's legible..." 

He could hear Zelenka scoff quietly. "Handwriting was always bad, these... ergh, yes, well, these could take some deciphering. Go, before they decide to invade again. Chief Kolya sounded very concerned." 

And Rodney had no idea if he was, or not. 

"I'll uh...escort you to the gate," John said getting up properly. "Relax doc, I can always hook myself back up later, call it up again. I hope there's no problem with Kolya." 

Just jealousy, possibly the fear that his greatest intellectual asset was planning on skipping town, Rodney wasn't sure but it was all there or would be. He held the laptop out for Zelenka. "Here, you might as well keep it. I have enough to think on before I get back here again." 

"If you say so," Radek replied. "Thought you were going to marry and have laptops babies as you were so pleased to see it again." 

But he did take it from him and John was next to him and he was flustered and wanting more contact and it was probably all a farce only...you couldn't fake well enough to fool the Visor. 

No-one could fake it well enough to fool the Visor. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder? Look, just, I want it to be in one piece when I get back is all. Jadon'll come over with his son and the next thing you know there's tava-paste drink all over everything, laptop included. That's all I'm saying." 

"That sucks when that happens," John said sounding amused. 

"Yes, yes like you would know. We have not even had tava paste. Now go...go..." Radek shoo-ed at the pair of them and then looked at John for a long moment as far as Rodney could tell and sighed just a little. "Do not get lost on way to gateroom." 

"Not getting lost." Rodney knew the way, even if the way looked different than it had. It felt a little like being displaced, like he hadn't ever been part of the first mission there, like the second group owned the city and made null and void any progress he’d ever made, but Rodney had always been territorial about his work. 

And other things. 

John walked with him to the gate, not talking but in certain stairwells he just lightly patted him on the arm as if he just needed to touch him one more time before he left. He didn't say anything else, but John was still crawling with blazing sparks in his energy fields and they seemed to wander over into Rodney’s own energy. 

He waited with him even as the gate dialed and finally said, "See you soon Rodney," in an oddly hopeful tone as he was ready to leave. 

"Yeah. Good luck with those gate addresses..." Rodney didn't look at the rest of the gateroom. He was the odd man out, the guy they all or mostly remembered a little of, and he was the one standing there in a Genii uniform with his eyes covered. He could see the push of energy when the wormhole connected, and when it settled down, he waited for the signal to step through. 

"You're clear Dr. McKay,” someone said from the control room and he calmly went through, stepping out onto the Genii homeworld. 

He didn't have to shift his visual range to know that Kolya was there and not happy. His colors were whirling with agitation and then there was a strange yellow tinge to it that he realized was something like anxiety or distrust. 

"You are over an hour past your time Rodney," he said by way of greeting. "What happened? Did they try to keep you there?" 

Yeah, and they gave him every reason in the world to want to stay, except Elizabeth and Bates were still on the home world, and suddenly the fact that they'd been only letting either him *or* Elizabeth travel was making sense. "No. I just lost track of time studying the chair interface." 

The color settled a little but did not fade entirely. "I see." His voice sounded tight and strained. "And did you find out anything that would significantly help our people?" 

"Possible ZPM locations. If the city has three ZPMs, it can *manufacture* everything from defense satellites to Gateships to weaponry." He shoved his hands in his pockets, and took a step closer towards Kolya, watching the colors. 

That brought more of a russet tone that seemed to be Kolya's equivalent of satisfaction. "Of course. Of course, you are correct," he said finally. "I apologize Rodney, I do not completely trust their motives." 

"I know." And he didn't know why Kolya cared, because there was no spark, no mellow satisfaction, just the russet hue of Kolya's shape, and then he was closing the gap between them while Rodney stood still enough for the both of them. 

"It would be easy for them to just refuse to let you return here," Kolya was saying as he took hold of his arms gently but firmly, facing him. "It concerns me that they might try ways of subverting you. That Colonel Sheppard is... ruthless, I can see it in him." 

"They're not trying to subvert me." Rodney stayed still, but he looked up towards Kolya's face, watching him in ancient view. "They're my *people*, same training as I had, same planet, same culture." 

"But he is military, and regardless of culture, military personal are willing to do what *has* to be done to ensure a missions success," Kolya was saying and it was just suddenly incredibly obvious that even if he was talking about Sheppard his words were a spotlight on his own motives 

"Yeah, I've noticed that," Rodney murmured, voice quiet, and it was hard to not stare up at Kolya. "Look, I ran late and I'm sorry." 

"I don't blame you Rodney," Kolya replied in his calming voice. "We can't afford to lose you. I can't afford to lose you..." He leaned forward and kissed him and it was strange. It felt different. The same, but different. 

It was like two different wavelengths of light -- it was both light, both want, but they were opposite ends of the spectrum, and Rodney hoped Kolya wouldn't be able to tell what he got up to. There was no way he could, but the fear was there. 

Kolya stepped back and he hadn't noticed any difference and in a way that was disturbing. "Let's go home. Sora has invited us to visit for dinner." 

Which meant that maybe he could talk to Elizabeth. He wasn't sure about what, but he felt that he needed to, felt that it might... 

Rodney didn't know. He didn't know what to do or what anything he could do could effect, and he'd never been like that before in his life, unable to decide, unable to shake off the ties to Kolya. There were no easy answers to this situation.

* * *

John wished Radek would stop looking at him like he was about to start juggling with nitroglycerine or something. He didn't need to be sat down and told that what he had done was a very stupid thing. He knew that, he'd known that when he'd done it and that hadn't stopped him. 

He'd been telling the truth when he said Rodney pressed every button he had. He was sharp and funny, he had that feeling of vulnerability and confusion about him that made John ache with wanting to protect, help or just do something. And okay, he wasn't the most balanced person in the world and maybe Rodney was only responding because he was confused or something but he'd take that if he could get it. 

"Colonel Sheppard to the Chair room," Radek's voice snapped over the radio and he sounded terse. 

"On my way..." he said and decided to jog rather than keep his friend waiting. 

He liked to think of Radek as a friend. There weren't many in his life, but the people on the mission themselves were top priority for him in day to day dealings, so it made it hard to mentally separate many out as 'friends'. Cadman, he liked, in a buddy-buddy kind of way, but Radek had been putting up with his insanity since he'd joined the SGC, and so had Markham. 

And a lot of them, if John thought about it. They had a pretty good team there, a lot of good people doing good work, helping the Genii and other native races fight back against the Wraith. The Daedalus wasn’t involved in the fight, but it kept Atlantis stocked with food and ammo, and that was enough for John. 

He'd met them, fought them and was impressed anyone was actually alive in this galaxy, because they were hard to take down with a P-90 and the Genii didn't like them well enough to share the anti-wraith gun they had going on. It just seemed that this time around, the prey weren't scuttling off to hide in corners, they were actually fighting back and he knew a lot of that was to do with the innovations Rodney had brought to the Genii, and the amazing alliance of worlds that Elizabeth had created. 

He slowed as he reached the door of the Chair room and looked in. Quite the little group in there.

"Hey doc, what's the problem?" 

Gatherings in the chair room weren't particularly common. "The display screens started to flash what, for lack of better word, I call warnings. Please sit down and see what it tries to tell us. Looks like ship of some kind." 

He half wished that Dr. Beckett’s notes on this gene therapy for the ATA gene hadn't been lost with the man, because right now his duties involved a lot of sitting around. "Sure," he replied and sat down, feeling the contact of Atlantis was over him, and a rather panicky undertone to the information that start stream in. 

"Okay then Atlantis, let’s see what's got you so worked up..." He closed his eyes a moment and brought all the long range sensors on line. 

He could feel it almost sapping energy from *him*, and that couldn't be good, no, but he didn't say anything to Radek or else he'd make him stop and yell for Biro. 

Or not, since he muttered an oath in Czech. "They are massing. There are, huh, twenty, no, thirty hives..maybe more? Heading towards the Genii homeworld. They are working together, perhaps the last of hive ships left. We must..." 

John opened his eyes. "How close are they? What's their ETA?" He had to warn them, get Rodney, Elizabeth and Bates out of there, get the world evacuated. That many hive ships, they weren't going to stop at a culling. 

They probably weren't even planning to stop for a snack. They were going to kill and destroy, and there wouldn't be anything left of the Genii cities that Rodney talked about but John had never seen. Didn't matter where they hid them, it was over if they didn't escape. "Perhaps ten hours. We need to move, yes?" 

"Definitely," John said looking at the stream of hive ship blobs. "They'll send the cruisers ahead. They're faster. They don't *need* that many Hives to take out a world, they are just there to witness it done. Shit... " What to do, what to do? He had an idea but he'd promised Cam that if he ever felt the urge to do something suicidal he'd at least see if it was the only option. 

"Any other options aside from flying over there right now and trying to warn them?" 

"None. If their gate was in a city, perhaps we could open it and make contact, however it is in the middle of a field. We would need to fly in." Radek looked restless, impatient. "I think, sir, the sooner we move the better." 

"Does anyone aside from me need to go?" he asked getting up. Obviously he had to go, he was the most competent pilot of the Puddlejumpers and the cloak should provide a measure of safety. 

"I want to go with you." Cadman volunteering, looking at him and asking for that even though she was up to replace him if something went wrong, "And we'll take a couple of others. We need to warn them, and get our people out and anyone else who wants to come." 

"No chance of the Daedalus getting there?” He asked as he considered that fact. "One other -- more people we take the less we can get out of there." 

"I'm still going," Cadman reiterated. 

"If Daedalus goes, hive cruisers will see and attack it." And John wasn't sure that any single ship could take on that many Hive ships at once. 

"Fine, Cadman, you're with me. Radek, I need something that will convince them we're not making this up... you've got as long as it takes me to get a puddlejumper to figure something out. Cadman, swing past the armory, get us some weapons," he said crisply, already planning his route. He wasn't sure how fast the cruisers could leap ahead of the main hives, but he was willing to bet that if they had five hours they would be lucky and if previous experience was anything to go on, getting to seek Kolya could take that long. 

Which meant they had next to no time, between the cruisers and the darts. John took off towards the room where the few Gateships sat. He sometimes wondered where the rest of those ships were, where and what had happened to them, but three ships did him just fine. It only meant that they didn't have lee-way to lose any. 

He needed to leave Atlantis too, definitely, so he chose puddlejumper 3, the one that had shown they could out fly a Wraith dart if they needed to. Even as he got the ship out and down, checking the drone stocks he was planning the route wondering if they would kick his ass if he ran off without Cadman. 

They probably would. Except he'd be the only one lost, and he could move faster than she could. And he was the commander -- what were they going to do, report him? 

"Colonel Sheppard, what jumper are you taking?" 

"Jumper 1..." he lied smoothly. "Meet you there..."

Only he was firing her up and moving along and dialing up the Genii gate address ready to go on through. 

"On my way." Cadman didn't have a clue, but she'd know soon. John sat back in the chair, and let it control him, let the ship and the gate interact. 

It was so easy, so easy to do it, to ignore Radek's and Cadman's gabble of protest in his radio mike as he swooped through the gate, and appeared out in the Genii territory. He needed to get to the city where Rodney would be. Rodney had said something about a tracker he had under his skin and had configured the puddlejumper to recognize it for a fraught mission they had been on. He could locate the area that way. 

He could steal in, because where there was Rodney there'd be Kolya. He wouldn't think about the tracker or why Rodney would be willing to make himself traceable. He was just going to get in, tell them, and get his people out. Finding the three of them couldn't be that hard, right? 

Sometime and a lot of swearing later, he was starting to revise that opinion. He didn't want to get picked up by the military too early, because that would be another delay and time was ticking on. But as he got into the city he was getting close to Rodney and hopefully Kolya, but was intercepted. 

"Look, guys I *have* to see Dr. McKay, or Chief Kolya, right now." 

"You need to go through the proper channels, Lantean." The guard had a large gun, and really, if they expect him to pull off some fancy maneuver, because their city was strange and baffling and grey, not to mention completely underground. 

"Then get those channels greased and let’s get moving," John said. "Look, I've got time sensitive information here and I need to see them now." 

They were grunts, low men on the totem pole, so John didn’t really expect them to do more than what they did. They boxed him in, and started to march him down a hallway. Street. Whatever the hell it was. 

It seemed to take forever, and he kept checking his watch. He didn't care that he was essentially under guard he just needed to be there. It seemed forever before he was told to stay where he was while they went and got permission. He could still call the jumper but it wasn't much good underground. 

It'd probably take out a wall or two, and like hell that'd do him any good. So he waited, but then he saw Rodney and Kolya coming towards him and he wasn't going to just *wait* for them to walk up to him when he could start towards them. That wasn't a shooting offense, and no-one had *ordered* him to stay put. 

"Colonel Sheppard -- what brings you down here?" 

"Look, we haven't got much time. I activated the long range sensors today in Atlantis after an alarm tripped. You've got over thirty Hive ships on a projected course right here. We put them at... maybe ten hours when I left. It's only taken me nearly three to get to see you..." John said urgently. "I've come to warn you, to get whoever we can out of here to safety." 

Rodney's mouth went grimly flat, and he looked to Kolya. "Sir, we have evacuation plans in place that we can start..." 

Kolya waved him quiet. "Do you have any proof of this assertion?" he said calmly. "Colonel Sheppard, I am not ready to cause planet wide chaos on your say so." 

John hesitated. "Well not on me, but the sensor in the jumper will be picking up the front runners. You want to wait for them to knock or something?" 

"By the time they reach here, they'll dial in to the gate and freeze it. If we wait for the first strikes, Kolya, it's going to be too late. I don't think Colonel Sheppard would sound a false alarm." It didn't seem like Rodney was going to _be_ quiet. 

That clearly irritated Kolya and John held his breath while the man decided. "Very well. But I am not convinced evacuation is necessary. We have weathered cullings before." 

"No, look, this is not a culling. This is them coming to put a stop to the threat that has been plaguing them," John tried to explain. "They will deep scan the place, they will discover the cities and blast them out of the earth. You've seen this happen. You're the ones that showed that place... what was it called? Sateda, that wasn't just culled, but practically razed to the ground. And they specifically will want Dr. McKay." 

"Dead, probably. When planets stand up like this, and we have, they show up in force. Now we can fight them running, but we do not have enough of anything to mount an attack like that and win. At best we could delay them, Acastus, but do you want to go down like the Satedans?" Rodney twisted, and it was really like John wasn't there at all. It was almost good to see him arguing against the man. 

"We have learned from their lessons." He looked at John. "If this is a betrayal, I will kill you, you understand?" 

"Perfectly," John replied, sticking close to Rodney even as Kolya strode over to a keypad which had to be something new and keyed in a code. Immediately sirens and alarms started blaring. 

"The alert is sounded. The military will be preparing to fight," Kolya replied. 

"Fight? It's over 30 hive ships...you don't have anything to fight with!" John pointed out. 

"We have nukes. We have some crude missiles." Rodney's jaw was set grimly, and he folded his arms over his chest. "We can take them with us, I suppose. Permission to find Commander Sora and Elizabeth?" 

"Granted." Kolya narrowed his eyes. "Keep an eye on him Rodney. We will be using the Yulari evacuation site. I will see you there, if not before." 

John attempted to look trustworthy even as Kolya turned away from them. "Seriously Rodney, we need to get Elizabeth and Bates and get the hell out of here," he murmured. "Those cruisers could be ahead of the fleet and about to enter this solar system."   
"They're faster than the fleet and the darts are faster than the cruisers. If you said ten hours and it's been three," Rodney rattled off once they were out of earshot, "we're looking at dart activity within the hour. They'll lock the gate. I don't want to be here to see if the Gateships take to nuclear bombs, how about you? Here, stick with me. We're, Elizabeth knows to head for Kolya's house in the event of an alarm. We've been waiting this out. Sora's probably looking to catch a ride, too, if we'll have room. She's not..." Rodney made a vague gesture up by his temple that John guessed passed for 'crazy'. 

"What about Bates?" John asked "And Idos? We can cram some in the puddlejumper but not that many." He guessed Jadon and Gisera and their son would be one group at least. "I don't think he's worked out what he is up against. Atlantis is very...worked up about it." 

"That's because we're not _used_ to dying, John. They grew up like this, and I'll be honest, it’s hard to get worked up when you've been living like this, because even on good days, any moment we could all end up dead in a hundred really bad ways. Endorphins stop working after a while, which..." Rodney walked in a jog, moving fast. "Bates is gone. He's not the soldier any of you knew. Idos broke him." 

"I can't just leave him," John struggled with that concept. He'd been broken but he still needed someone there. "Where will he be?" 

“Nearby. The ranking members all live in the same convenient area, which makes for great parties and no drunk horse riding to get back home. You’ll need to sedate him. I hope you have something on you.” Rodney picked up pace again, and turned a corner, and for a moment, John thought he’d almost lost him, but there he was in front of a doorway set into the stone walls, and there was Elizabeth and Sora.

”I didn’t think you’d be able to get here,” Elizabeth confessed as she stepped towards him.

”We need to move quickly if we’re going to…” Sora glanced at John, and inclined her head slightly. There was no telling what was going through her head, but she seemed more willing to trust him than Kolya. 

"We need to get to the surface, get to the puddlejumper and get the hell out of here," John replied checking his watch. "And I hope you guys know a quicker way to the surface than how I got here because by the time we get there, the Wraith are pretty much going to be here. I'm going to take you back to Atlantis if I can, if not we'll take the Alpha site you've got going on. The shuttle can take maybe another five? You got anyone you want to bring, now’s the time to get them. " 

"You want Bates?" Rodney asked, twisting because he could hear, they both could hear footsteps. A blond man and a pretty woman with black hair and a baby in the man’s arms, running towards them and looking relieved to see them there. "Because those are the ones I was waiting for." 

"Where would he be?" John asked and then considered if he was military they would be headed up to the surface anyway. "Where would Idos' unit be deployed?" 

"He..." Rodney shook his head a little, and maybe he didn't know, but Sora cut in for him. 

"He'll be working on moving the citizens in an orderly manner towards the evacuation site, and after the city is cleared, they'll join the front lines." 

"So he'll be down here..." Just, where? 

“We'll head for an exit point, try and catch up with him there," John decided. "Got everything? Everyone? Because we're not going back for anything." 

"Hold on a second." And Rodney was keying open the door, reaching inside and fuck, if he *ran* inside, John was going to have to strangle him and then drag him to the surface, except...

Except it seemed like he was prepared for that, and he had a contingency plan in his head, because he grabbed a satchel and strapped it to his back quickly. That was when John realized that Sora and Jadon was carrying similar packs.

One of them, Elizabeth or Rodney, had really stressed the escaping to Atlantis part of things to their small circle, and John was grateful for that. "Okay, let's go." 

Even though they were half running, half moving fast through corridors, their way was impeded by scores of people streaming out, half frantic with panic, losing sight of loved ones, attempting to grab just one more thing. John had to push his way through, more than once feeling a little like a salmon trying to fight his way upstream with a group of people in tow. He was glad he hadn't brought Cadman because it was proving hard enough to keep just the few of them together. Just as they were reaching the surface, another set of sirens sounded and around them things became more frantic, with people pushing and shoving.

"Wraith darts!" Gisera called out over the rising hubbub.

"Advance attack from the cruisers," Sora shouted over the sound of them screeching through the atmosphere. "If they're not beaming up, then they'll be coming in on foot!"

"With our known habit of suicide bombing them, they're not going to beam anything!" Rodney shouted back, and the noise was deafening. Rodney kept close to John as he ran; he'd told John that he only saw energy patterns, and with the wraith cruisers that close, firing down at them, it was a wonder he kept up with them. "They'll have dialed the gate. We're not going to be able to get out!" 

"We're going to the puddlejumper," John replied over the noises as the first exchanges of gunfire took place. "If necessary we can cloak and run for it...this way!"

Now they really were running in completely a different direction, fighting happening around them, smoke drifting in front of everything. John had to fire, take down a couple of Wraith headed their way and they were close to the haven of the jumper.

"McKay! Where the hell are you going?!"

John didn't recognize the voice but it sounded military. Bates. 

"Somewhere that I'm not going to die!" Rodney twisted, and John could see him sighting for Gisera, Jadon, Elizabeth and Sora, making sure they were all there, running with John, and he just did not have time to turn and look at the yelling man, except. Bates, one of the ones he needed to rescue. For some reason, he reacted as if the hostile sounding man was an enemy of some sort, instinctively moving, thinking there was a Wraith or some additional threat he had not yet seen.

John started to twist, turning, putting himself between Rodney and the other man he'd been looking for and that was when he felt his shoulder explode in fire. 

He was knocked off his feet but that bad habit of his of disassociating from pain and injury kicked in automatically and even half sprawled on the ground he managed to pull his gun to fire back on the Wraith that had shot them and his vision cleared enough from him to find that it was just Bates standing there, his gun just fired and re-sighting on Rodney. 

"Sergeant... Stand down!" he shouted and pushed away the insistent hurt, hurt, hurt from his shoulder. "What the hell do you think you are doing?!

"He's a deserter! A traitor... He most likely revealed our location to the Wraith!" Bates bellowed back, and John had to admit, Elizabeth had been right. He had a broken look behind his eyes, something not right and that was never a good thing when it was the wrong end of a gun.

"He did not... you can come with us. We're going to try and do something about the Gate!” At least he hoped they would because if they sat and waited it out, things could get tricky with the shoulder because he was sure that it wasn't meant to burn like this.

"I am no traitor! Idos is taken because of _you_ , Idos is..." With a snarl Bates jerked the gun John didn't recognize to level on Rodney again and in a reflex John shot him. Just one shot but he went down without another sound or more threats to the people he was focusing on.

"Jumper... now..." he said and thought the cloak 'off'. "Hurry.." 

"Fuck, fuck, god-dammit..." Rodney's voice was a stream of cussing, and he grabbed onto John's other side, pulling his arm over his shoulders. "Move move move!"

"This way, just run straight into it and we'll be safe," Elizabeth declared, and it was that easy except John was in no shape to be sure the wraith hadn't seen them heading in. He could just hope that the mass of people, the chaos, would cover while he tried to think the cloak back on. 

They piled into the jumper, all of them and immediately he locked the place up and brought up the cloak. The moment he made it to the pilot's seat, he was bombarded with alarms and information informing him of danger and where the wraith ships were in comparison to everything else. The Stargate was locked open and that made the Genii sitting ducks as they streamed hopefully and a little desperately towards it.

He could fight, but they needed to save the drones for Hive ships or cruisers and his other armaments were enough to take out darts if he was lucky.

"Rodney, you got any idea of how we can dislodge the lock on the Stargate? Work out what cruiser is dialing in and.. .take it out or... jump the wormhole somewhere. Or maybe this thing has an emergency override like...calling 911 or something?" John asked trying to push back everything else.

He'd heard about the black hole and how they’d made the wormhole jump, they all had. Maybe they could do something with that. He didn't want the Genii to die like those other dead worlds. 

"No, no, there's no, there's no..." Rodney paced the small space between the cockpit and the area where Elizabeth was belting in their passengers. "Fuck, I can't think, I can't think, hold on, hold on, because we *have* to get out of here. When I talk about shoddy missiles and nukes, what I mean is *really* overpowered nukes, fueled by Olesian ore, and we're all going to die, Nuclear winter death." 

"I know that Rodney," he said grimacing as he attempt to twist. "But the puddlejumper has drones and if I can knock something out of the way and get the people on the ground out of here before a hive ship comes in with some sort of city destroyer blast then we'll be okay."

He was hoping to sound patient. And he was pretty sure he could accelerate out of the atmosphere pretty damn fast. 

"We, we could..."

"C'mon, use that big brain of yours, Rodney." Jadon leaned forwards against the seatbelts, and John wouldn't call it the best peptalk in the world, but Rodney waved one hand at him.

"We can break the gate if we, huh, we've had locked gates before, hell, I've seen gates as bombs before, the wormhole needs to be destroyed, we need to -- Sheppard, tell me this has drones on it?" 

"I've got a full load," John replied and winced as the ground shook near to them from some sort of impact. They needed to get into the air as quick as possible but if Rodney had to go outside he couldn’t take off yet. 

There was blood trickling down his arm and he was reminded of that jeep ride down a mountainside, the cab stinking of blood. Only this time he was driving. 

"I can dial the gate from here," Rodney declared, and he stopped in front of the ships' DHD, staring down at it for a moment. "Okay, I need you to level charges at the coordinates to the gate that I put in and there really needs to be a god-damned interface between my eyes and this ship, are you hearing me, Gateship?" 

"You tell me to fire and I'll hit the mark," John replied and Jesus fuck his shoulder was hurting. The puddlejumper...Gateship who the hell thought of that name?... started querying John as to what it was Rodney wanted as if it couldn't quite get the meaning. 

Interface. He'd done it before with the chair, he could do it now. He concentrated hard on connecting with the visor, and it finally seemed to get the idea. 

He could hear Rodney make a startled noise, and then he was still, silent. "Okay, this is, huh, I think I'll be the one doing this -- just get ready to fly, Colonel." 

He didn't like to say he could see and feel what he was doing because the interface was online through him. Too distracting, Rodney just needed to do his thing and... wow, he could feel the math just flowing, equations as easy as inhaling and taking a breath and he knew the difference between being smart and what Rodney actually was. 

"I'm always ready to fly," he promised and Jumper 3 rose up into the air, where the sky was full of explosions and streaking shapes. 

He could feel Rodney calculating the trajectory, trying to take into account the planet's gravity -- not the same as earth, apparently, and John would have to ask about that -- and location from the bays to the gate. And then there was a feeling of satisfaction from Rodney. "Good as it'll get. The alpha site is the old culled Athosian planet. The Yulari reestablished it as a good evacuation point. It's the other side of the galaxy, and as long as we keep the darts off the evacuees... Colonel, I have everything ready. Hold position and fire." 

In front of him, the exact points of impact, the exact forces involved and Rodney had done *something* to the programming of the drones to direct the explosive force forward. "Holding..." 

John focused his attention on that spot and fired, holding the connection all the way to the gate and the impact. 

The shimmering pool of interface wavered and popped suddenly and he heard Rodney punching the DHD button even as he refocused. "Have we got it?" he asked. "Is that our connection dialing?" 

"That is us dialing and, last chevron encoded, locked. We just need to, oh, not die and hope they realize what we just did." 

John smiled. "Not dying is something I have a pretty good track of so far. The Genii use radio frequency to communicate?" That was something hackable by the jumper. At Rodney’s nod he just asked ‘Please, please make this happen’ and then spoke aloud. "This is Colonel Sheppard, Dr. McKay has over ridden the Wraith lock on the Stargate, Alpha site dialed. We will provide air support if you get civilians to the Stargate now. Any additional air support will be appreciated. You have ...37 minutes, I suggest you move it." 

And while he spoke, Rodney sidled into the co-pilot chair, like he'd done it before, like he had any idea of what he was doing when he leaned forwards, head tilted towards the front window. "Chief Kolya, I suggest you evacuate. I want to heavily emphasize that your unit should join the evacuation. Plan Delta is *not* viable." 

There was a pause and a crackle, then a rough, "Understood." and just like that a stream of people started to brave the run to the Stargate. They'd tunneled as close as they could, John could see that but things became a bit more fraught. Because all of a sudden he had to fight, and the jumper was more of a shuttle than a fighter. But he could improvise. He just had to give his energy shots time to recharge and make sure he hit more than one enemy with each drone he had. 

"Hold on everyone... things could get a bit rough in here," he called to the rest of his passengers, and then took them into battle. 

This was what he did, this was his genius, finding a knife edge of miracle between possible and impossible. Outnumbered and without a hope in hell, he turned it around and took the fight right back at them. 

He was a pilot, at the end of the day. He was a pilot and his co-pilot was sort of just hanging onto dear life, belting himself in a little hastily. "Re-routing energy a little more efficiently, Colonel. We've got three hours at this rate and firing speed." 

"Anything you...can give me Rodney..." John replied and he was in that zone, the tense adrenalin soaked focus of life and death, his little puddlejumper twisting and darting, laying down cover fire, rising to chase off the darts. Each jolt of impact shaking him and sending pain up and down his shoulder and arm. The jumper might last three hours but he wasn't sure if he could. 

He didn't know what Rodney was doing in the co-pilot seat, but it didn't matter. The puddle jumper was still in the air and he could half-see the people below, and god, that city, just the one city, had to hold how many people? And John had no idea how many cities there were all total, just that there were probably people headed for the gate as fast as they could. No wraith dart was going to get through with them or through him. 

Bad guys, good guys, and innocents and he wasn't going to let them down. He could feel the sweat starting on his face, the coldness that he pushed through. And still they poured through, hundreds, thousands, some falling and not getting up again... 

It was getting harder. Sparks were spraying the inside of the jumper, something hit and unsteady and he compensated even as miraculously, Rodney started to fix the damn thing. 

"How long..." he managed. "How much longer?" 

"Not long. I saw Pratel's standard bearer go down, and they're the city furthest from the gate. The only people left will be those who couldn't evacuate and those who stay and fight, and nothing will get them to leave. The gate is going to time itself out in 3 minutes. Should I close it before it collapses and prevent any..." Rodney waved one hand, and he was breathing hard. 

"We've... got to go somewhere..." John managed, striving to maintain his cool, even though he could hear the children of Rodney's friends crying behind them. The Hives would be here soon enough and their powerful weaponry. “Do we go through there? Or redial?" 

The Genii civilians were through, military following rag tag and insanely shooting at Wraith Darts. 

Rodney's eyes were on the ground, and John had to stop for a moment to take out another ship. His shoulder was starting to scream again. "Jesus, run, people, run, we spend hours every week, running, you can run, you're a god-damned strike force, twenty, twenty five -- Sheppard, we have to go through the gate and then close it. It's going to collapse on itself if we leave it and when I say go, I mean NOW." 

Now... Now. He went for it, pushing hard accelerating and just relying on instinct to thread the needle of the Stargate. Glimpses of bodies, Genii and Wraith intermingled and then the rush. The rush... and then a new sky with no darts and a mass of humanity around the gate even as the connection collapsed. 

And now, he wasn't feeling as good as he could be. 

"Going to need you to enter your IDC when we make contact. Dialing Sateda right now. Then to Atlantis. I don't want them rushing the gate and hitting the Iris. C'mon, just hang on, if you pass out I'm going to lose visuals, and while I can fly these you don't want me doing it without visuals. Sheppard..." Rodney was hitting the buttons, and it was all John could do to push himself up sitting. They'd saved lives. A lot of lives, and it seemed like the Genii had a plan for their evacuation, and there... were a lot of them. A lot of them, thronging beneath the puddlejumper and out beyond it, far beyond it. 34 minutes worth of humanity, Genii.

"McKay -- did Kolya's unit make it through?" Sora leaned against the straps that had held her in, and hey. Maybe the Genii military wasn't decimated after all. Half of them dressed like civilians anyway, didn't they? Maybe just the active ones. John wasn’t sure and things were getting disjointed. 

"I don't know, I, we can find out later, we need to get him to Atlantis..." 

Focus, he had to focus and it was like hearing Leo's voice, echoing and swirling and a bullet wound shouldn't hurt like that. His IDC, right... right, he could hold on that long. He was cold, freezing and that wasn't good. He should've stopped and put a pressure bandage on it but there had been no time. "Need to hurry..." Because things were going sort of grey around the edges and that was probably blood loss or something. 

"Gate reopened, I'll take her through. Just keep alive, Colonel, Elizabeth, there's a first aid kit in the back, can you...?" 

"He's *hurt*? Why didn't you say something sooner?" 

And it was all thick blurring voices. But Rodney was guiding the ship through, and John clung on numbly. 

All he had to do was send the IDC and then he could just let go. Rodney was taking care of things and that was good. Just before they entered the event horizon he transmitted the code and even before they made it out the other side he didn't know if they'd made it.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

His skull was killing him.

Direct interfacing while trying to pilot a ship was something Rodney had never tried. He'd wanted to scream at them for all being insane, but he couldn't because they needed to survive, and the ship had seemed to understand that. It had flown in straight lines for him, and docked itself smoothly in the docking bay so they could spill out, or, well, the infirmary staff has spilled in and next thing he knew they were all in the infirmary.

Thirty eight minutes. There was no way, not a chance in hell that more than half the Genii had escaped, but he hadn't been able to tell John that. Pratel was a good distance from the gate, but there were cities on the other side of the planet. He hadn’t had the heart to tell him that. John was the big hearted hero, and John had been dying and he'd finally stopped them at 37 minutes and cut through, just ahead of their own possible quick demise. 

Kolya had activated plan Delta. Rodney didn't know if he'd stuck around to see to it himself, but he'd started it. Every nuke they had, every missile, every weapon, period, was going up against hive ships, programmed to slip through shields designed to repel energy blasts in a tactic that would only work once.

Had gone up against. Rodney hoped they'd put a hell of a dent in them, because those left behind were going to die no matter what. Wraith or radiation, unless they made it to the very limited secure bunkers and the Wraith gave up and went home.

They were going to die and Rodney was going to wish he was dead from waiting, sitting in the infirmary. They needed to be cleared to mix with the city, and he didn't know what anyone planned to do with Jadon, Gisera and little Acastus. Or Sora. He supposed that she'd want to go to the Alpha site once she'd gotten a little sleep, see what was left of the government. Maybe seize control with Ladon and her father’s help. Tyrus was a pretty good commander, if he’d made it.

Rodney pulled the visor off, and balanced it carefully on one knee. He was tired of watching John's life signs waver.

It wasn't good. He knew it wouldn't be good after he'd heard their doctor saying about fragments and some corrosive substance that had entered John's bloodstream and that was his fault as well. Not because the shot had been because of him, but because when it came down to it, he had invented the weapon that was going to give someone who had risked their life for him a pretty agonizing and unpleasant death.

He'd invented the anti-wraith gun, the corrosive, all of it. A fighting chance for the Genii and now...he was starting to doubt it was worth it.

He had studied John in the ancient view and, damn him if he didn't managed to glow bright from his centre even as other things seemed to be shutting down. 

"Dr. McKay, are you alright?" Dr. Biro had spotted him again.

No. His life had gone to hell again, and there he was on Atlantis again. The darkness was comforting, but it wasn't the usual circumstances that he put himself at that disadvantage under. "Just tired. Interfacing with the Gateship… puddlejumper was tiring. How's Colonel Sheppard going to be?" He looked towards the sound of her voice, and curled his fingers loosely around the visor, ready to put it back on. Except he didn't want to see her lie to him. That was all.

There was a long pause. "John has a history of defying the odds," she said after a moment. "I'm sure he'll do it again. We've given him another transfusion but he has issues with some of the painkillers so I have to be cautious. We're working on a cure or antidote to the substance in his blood. Unless you know if one exists?"

"There's a group of, another culture that was rumored to have created an antidote. It's an anti-wraith weapon. It stops cellular regeneration and accelerates degeneration." Which meant everything, from skin to hair to anything that involved growing which was everything, wasn't it? For people, skin sloughed off, grew back, healed. "We've had a few manufacturing accidents, before we had the process refined. It's a lot like radiation poisoning."

"Please god, don't let my hair fall out..." It was a little weak, a little less drawling and effortless as Sheppard usually seemed to be, but it was him and his voice from the bed beside him. 

Dr. Biro sounded pleased, if not slightly amazed to see him awake. "Just lie still John, otherwise I’ll be putting the restraints on like I told you the last time you gave me trouble."

“I wouldn’t. His skin won’t heal.” Restrained wrists and that was something Rodney was reaching to not think about. He clutched his fingers around the visor for a moment more, and then lifted it to his eyes. “Colonel Sheppard, you saved a lot of lives tonight.”

"That was kinda the idea," Sheppard replied. He must've given the doctor some sort of look because she was moving away from them then, giving them privacy. "Not... everyone though."

"No. It wasn't possible. The hives were almost there. To have the gate linked to the evacuation site when that happened... They all would have died." John's colors shifted, still shimmering, still blowing bright, hotly, from the inside out. "The Genii will survive. I think most of the councils made it through, too."

"That's good... " John paused a little. "Are you going to stay here? Or go back?" He asked that like it was something important when he was lying there pretty much dying because of a weapon Rodney had built.

Carefully built. Created, inside and out, liquid, bullets, everything, it was all his down to the firing mechanisms. “Nothing to go back to. I’ll, I’ll stay here. In Atlantis.” Not Earth. He didn’t know what to do with the other side of the Gate equation, but Rodney knew he was going to take it one step at a time.

"That's good." He paused a moment and then he could sense that John was trying to think what to say. "Atlantis likes you. It would be good for there to be someone around that she likes who can do the sort of things you can do. You were... pretty good under pressure there in the jumper. I could see feel what you were doing. Blew me away."

"I'm not going to play it down." Rodney barely managed a smile at John in return, though, and just watched the lights that made up John's form. It didn't matter that he was under blankets, Rodney could still see it all. "Back in the SGC, I was... Minimalized. They didn't like my attitude, and I made a few mistakes. I don't think if you wrote any of it into a mission report that they'd believe it."

"Probably not," John replied and Rodney could just about here the effort in his voice to sound normal. "You should be maximized." He shifted slightly. "You're looking at me again...?"

"Yeah." It was a strange question. He'd been looking at John for quite a while, and he'd only rested his eyes for a moment. "The bullet you were hit with..."

There was a pause. "Is a Wraith-killer, I know. I know you invented them. I know... what it probably means," he said and cleared his throat again. "I know who shot me Rodney. I'm pretty sure it wasn't you."

"It might as well have been." Rodney watched the colors shift, watched the brilliant sheen shift, and watched the colors tighten in, but they never dulled. The brilliance that was John Sheppard didn't die down, it just compacted. "If there were any sane ancients left in this Galaxy, they'd let you ascend."

John shifted a little himself. "Probably not my sort of thing," he said. "Uh..." He actually sounded embarrassed. "Could I... I mean, I'd really like to see what you look like through that...thing? If it makes you feel weird, it's just curiosity, don't worry."

"Huh, that's right. You have the gene." Rodney reached up, and scooted his chair forwards. John had just saved his life -- loaning him his eyes for a moment was not as big a deal as it would have been a few years before. "I forget that. Carson inoculated a few of us with a retrovirus that carried his gene. Completely against FDA requirements, of course, but it had to be done. It seems like the more it's used, the stronger it is. You'll have to..." Rodney took the visor off, felt it disconnect from something deep in his mind. "Close your eyes."

"Okay." John seemed to wait expectantly and Rodney was pretty sure that that was just an excuse for to make him feel his way over John's face to put the visor in place.

He definitely heard the sharp inhalation where it slipped into place and he remembered his first time of putting it on.

"Wow, this is... very cool... " John murmured. "This is what you see? You look... " Words seemed to fail him. Words tended to fail Rodney when he was trying to explain it to people.

"Yeah. Try shaving with that on. There are different modes, it's all pretty cool. I spent about a week pulling up stats on people, and I still do it when I first meet them." Rodney contented himself for the moment to the darkness, listening to John's reactions. "Ancient view helps, since I can't see faces. No-one has the same patterns."

"You look like a fast forward of a universe..." John replied. "Light swirling like galaxies and thoughts like supernova and lightning..." He then coughed, sounding embarrassed that he'd said that aloud. "I can see why you stare. I could sit here looking at you for hours. You could see some of what I felt couldn't you?" 

"Yeah." It felt like a confession when he said it. "Yeah, I've never been one for social cues, but at least now it's written large. And usually colorful." And in Kolya, the shifting colors of fall were a warning, made life easier, while with John he mostly just sat in wonder. "I mean, right now, you're, you're dying and you still..."

"Won't stop talking?" John replied and he felt the coolness of the visor touch his hand as he passed it back to him. "Yeah. Yeah, I know I just... I've been living on borrowed time for while, so I can't complain too much. I got to do what I wanted, got to come here, find you...survivors. Though... It'd be nice to see if that glow inside you when you look at me is something to do with me or not. I'm pretty sure if I've got one it's to do with you."

"Did the military suspend DADT while I've been gone?" Rodney shifted closer, and he clutched at the visor, bringing it slowly back up to his eyes.

"No," John replied. "I could be chucked out I guess, but they're pretty good at turning a blind eye and there's the whole dying thing... And I'm pretty sure there's people higher up in the SGC who won't be throwing stones with all that glass around them."

"Huh, true." Rodney waited for the visor to sync back to him once it was in place, and the image resolved quickly into what he was used to. It hardly twinged at all, anymore, and then John was full in his vision again, still glowing. "So, uh. You need to let us help you. I can't speak for Elizabeth, but I won't be going back to the Genii evacuation site. I'll stay here and..."

"Do all the things you couldn't do without a ZPM," John replied. "Elizabeth... I thought I remembered there was some big negotiation due to happen. I kinda forgot about that with the excitement."

His voice was getting steadily softer, more blurry around the edges as he spoke.

Maybe, and it was just wishful thinking of a morbid type, but maybe John would just slip into a coma and quietly pass in his sleep. It was an agonizing slow death, where the body betrayed, and Rodney knew enough about Sheppard to know he deserved better than that. Warrior's deaths were over-rated, that dying in battle shit Kolya gave him, and there was a certain comfort in the idea of just closing your eyes and not knowing.

"Yeah. I promise to keep you updated, okay? And we'll find the people we need to find to... fix you."

"You really will be a miracle worker if you manage that," John replied and there was a light brush of fingers over his hand. "Go and get something to eat. And rest or something."

"Yeah." Something. Rodney tipped his hand over, clutched at John's fingers, and then leaned in to kiss his cheek. At least, that was the plan. It was Kolya's fault that he was comfortable with touching like that, that he'd gotten used to taking it for granted that all touch was good except when someone shot you. "I'll see how Elizabeth and Sora are." Jadon and Gisera would cope. They were strong people, strong enough to survive two cullings and this one wouldn't come with indentured servitude at the end of it.

John tricked him by turning just a little into the kiss, just for a moment and hardly made a sound at a movement that had to hurt his shoulder.

"I'll see you later," he murmured. 

"You're going to be okay." Rodney whispered it, and squeezed those couple of fingers John had given him, and then he started to stand up. Fuck, fuck, he needed to do something and sleep was over-rated. "I'll be back. Get some rest."

"Yeah, okay... "

And he could barely hear that now. Sounded like Sheppard had used up his energy with that little conversation. Maybe he'd go find Zelenka and see... .see if maybe there was something in the Ancient database he'd missed.

Something that could cure anything that stupid too smart for their own fucking good humans could throw at another human being.

Rodney turned, patting John's fingers and then laying them on the mattress before he turned to see himself out. He'd do something. He just had to.

* * *

He couldn't stay and watch any longer, so Radek had volunteered to go along with Elizabeth on her negotiations with the Yulari. Seeing someone killed was not a new thing, but watching them die in very small, very painful increments was not something he could bear witness to. Besides, someone had already taken up the bearing witness position and he didn't think Rodney would be letting go of it anytime soon. Not until the Colonel stopped fighting it, at least.

Radek just wished he hadn't urged caution to John before after seeing them kiss. He should've just said, you deserve some happiness. Do it. He had not and he regretted the fact he might've stopped John even having the first bit of happiness in a long time.

The Matriarchs and Elizabeth were getting on like a house on fire. To be expected he supposed, but there was a lot of solemn talk about the Wraith and the Genii.

The fate of the Genii people, the first scouting missions back to what had to be decimated planet. Rodney had spoken to him of the bombs, how many, the tonnage of the material. It was impressive. Cold war impressive, and the long-range scanners had shown only twenty Wraith ships. Over half of their fleet was gone now, even if the Genii had paid a high price and the planet was perhaps no-longer inhabitable. Fewer wraith meant that the war could perhaps truly be fought, but it meant that those who remained were, well, stirred up as bees in a hive. 

But only 20. And perhaps a few strays. Compared to over 60 that had been noted when the first expedition had had to flee the city.

They even spoke of Rodney, though they called him the Blind One as if he was some figure out of legend, and of the fact the Genii refugees had stayed with their enclave for some time, but so many needed medical assistance and refuge, there had been lightning fast negotiations with these mysterious Trinarians and now the displaced Genii were there.

He wondered if Kolya was dead. They had been unable to answer that and he wasn't sure if he was there for any reason aside from to keep Elizabeth from feeling too lonely. Perhaps he wasn't giving his all to this as he should; Cadman had been ready to tear John limb from limb for ditching her, up to the point they dragged him from the puddlejumper, his shoulder and back soaked in blood that refused to clot properly and had to tear Rodney away from him.

Rodney had been... not shaken, or shocky, they were perhaps the wrong words, but inconsolable. He had sat beside John's bed when he'd been given leave to, and very little free time had been spent away from there. But that was what laptops were for, and... 

And Rodney was no longer quite the Rodney that Radek had known. He had changed, grown, perhaps. His theory was more rapid fire, more wildly creative and perhaps past the edge than it had ever been, but he had created a chemical that had forestalled cellular regeneration and built so many bombs that perhaps he had every right to reach towards the looser side of his sanity. Radek did not know how he would have dealt with that, himself. With Kolya, with belonging to a man of that nature, and accepting it so easily.

"One of our own was wounded in the culling, and we would like to approach the Trinarians to see if they could help treat him."

Ah, ah, now was the time to pay attention. Radek sat up, watching for their reactions.

"Your own healing sciences is beyond most of that which we have known across many worlds," the Ser-Matriarch was saying. "It might be that if you cannot heal this one, then they will not either."

"It is the one called Colonel Sheppard who saved many of the Genii and ourselves and it was no strike from the Wraith, but from one of the weapons designed to kill Wraith," Elizabeth said in a measured tone. "He is near death. Perhaps in time our doctors... healers could find a cure, but not in time for him."

"Ah, your Ker-nal." And Ker and Ser were close enough that Radek could understand how one could make a linguistic mistake with unfamiliar titles, make assumptions that were not there. Car dealerships did not imply that any monetary deal or break would actually occur, but a different sort of dealing which was yet again different from dealing a hand of cards, and it was all very complicated.

"They are careful with their gate address. The Trinarians come to you if you are in need, and if the people they help are willing, they carry supplies back themselves. We have only recently been to their planet, and we did not initiate that contact. But they... were interested in your people. There was a missive from them."

"A... missive?" Elizabeth sounded surprised. "They have sent us a message?" She glanced at Radek who was still nonplussed.

"Yes," one of the matriarchs replied. "We spoke of you to them, and there was one who recognized a name of these newcomers. Zel-en-Ka." She pronounced that slowly and carefully.

"But..." Radek leaned forward. "I am Dr. Zelenka. They could only recognize my name if..."

"If at least one of them was from the original Atlantis expedition!" Elizabeth said, even her unflappable diplomacy shaken. "Someone *did* get away... despite everything."

It was hard to not get excited by that idea, and Radek leaned forwards, looking at the Ser-Matriarch. "Our people were separated by a, by a large distance and we have been looking for them..."

"Their leader, Kar-son, said that you would understand the missive and do with it what you knew to do. It is my pleasure to pass this missive on to you." She turned in her chair, caught the eyes of some helper, a man-maid as Radek was starting to think of them, who pulled it out of his vest to hand to Elizabeth.

"It can't be Carson, Rodney found his body," Elizabeth said as she opened the wax sealed scroll. "It can't be."

"We were thinking you, Rodney all dead," Radek felt he had to point out. "What is it? What does it say?"

"Some sort of code but it mentions the world series - it has to be from some of them," Elizabeth said unable to contain her excitement now.

"They have been good allies, doing work when our harvests have been poor and we have been unable to provide them with payment. I wish you luck in finding them." She smiled at them, while Radek leaned over to peer at the letter.

"As we were trained to do when we weren't watching the world series..." And then letters, letters as a code that Radek stared at, trying to will it to work. "Could be something Cadman would know?"

"One of us will," Elizabeth replied. "It's the right amount of letters to make a gate address," she pointed out. "You go... go back, find Cadman, work out what the address is. If it is an address to a world where they are, or the Trinarians, we need to get John there as quickly as possible."

"Yes, Doctor Weir." Radek was standing and walking away already before he realized what had just happened. It was almost as if Elizabeth was still the leader of the expedition. She had a way of doing that, even if technically he was the highest ranking civilian. And it was fine for him, because Radek did not particularly want to make those decisions.

Besides, diplomatically it was a good move and... what did he care? He had something that might help John, might help Rodney, here in his hands. He'd like to say he'd lost count of the amount of times that John had saved his life. But he hadn't. Thirty-four times, only counting the direct saving of *his* life, rather than a generic saving of the world.

And this being the man some talked about as being unstable, having dangerous leanings. Hah.

He couldn't tell Rodney they had said the name Carson. Because if they were wrong, it would destroy him. He was not going to get their hopes, Rodney's hopes up, and be wrong. There was no way he could do that, when Rodney's grasp to reality seemed so different than what Radek expected of him. Losing Carson had made him suffer, and it was not a wound to open unless it was really healable.

He hurried, jogging through hallways, and small interconnected rooms until he found where the Marines were, talking with the military of the matriarchal people. "Cadman! Cadman, I need you to make sense of code."

"Oh, hi, Dr. Zelenka..." Cadman turned around. "A code? What sort of code? Let’s take a look." She frowned a little, taking the paper from his hand when he thrust it out at her. Yes, she needed to look and quickly. 

"That looks like the letter substitutions we do to memorize gate address quickly. There are letter symbols and then you make up a mnemonic. Works better than numbers. Except we did it with the ones on earth...you counted out around clockwise starting outside and spiraling in."

“On DHD?” Zelenka leaned towards her. “We need to get to one jumper and look. *Now*.”

“Okay, Okay..."Cadman replied as she immediately started to lead the way. "Where did the message come from? that's... that's an Earth reference about the world series."

"You noticed? Good. Is from Trinarians, to us, and we suspect they are survivors of first expedition. Survivors and rumored to have antidote to chemical Colonel Sheppard was shot with. Twice the reason to go, no?" Radek walked fast to keep up with her. 

"No kidding," Cadman replied and speeded up all business then. "We'll head back at the same time as we work on it. Way I hear it, things aren't looking good with Shep and there's a lot of people who are going to be plenty pissed off if we let him die."

"We will not _let_ him die. And he is still your commanding officer." Shep, hah. Sheppard seemed to have no ability to get people to refer to him properly. Only Rodney did, which didn't make sense since they were still trying to work out where Rodney fit into the SGC.

"Yeah, well he still owes me for ditching me on that run. If I'd been watching his back... " Cadman trailed off as they reached the puddlejumper with one of the only other people who could fly the thing standing guard. "Stackhouse, lets get this baby back to Atlantis. We've got some deciphering to do."

"And quickly," Radek stressed. "We need to find the gate address and move Colonel Sheppard through immediately." Without delay, and he hoped they understood it because he had no idea what if anything the antidote could do -- but if John lived to see that even a few more from the first expedition had survived, he might perhaps die happy.

Well, as happy as he could be. He just seemed to be grateful that he wasn't alone, and that made Radek want to look up the Leo they all knew about and arrange for some physics related freak accident to occur to knock some sense into him.

They were in the air before he managed to focus on things, and he called out the letters and scribbled down the symbols even as they were heading through the Stargate horizon. For once he was so engrossed he didn't panic about being de-molecularized and rematerialized in split second. Well... 0.3 of a second.

It just startled him a little, coming out the other side when he realized that he was still in motion of writing. Yes, it was gate address, if one worked that way. Inside to outside, in a clock motion, and he checked it a second time to be sure. "Radio Dr. Biro."

"Dr. Biro, come in please..." Cadman called urgently.

"Biro here, is there a medical emergency?" her voice replied in both their headsets.

"No, no...we think we've got an address to the Trinarians, the ones with the antidote, " she replied. "Can Colonel Sheppard be moved?"

"I want to strongly recommend against it. I don't know what kind of effect further gate travel would have on his--"

"It's like stasis! It's not going to affect his non-regenerating cells one way or another -- Lt. Cadman, we're on our way!"

"Dr. McKay... Rodney, if you move him you'll _kill_ …"

The radio cut off then for a moment, leaving them to wonder who had won the argument. 

"What do we do? McKay can't *carry* him?" Cadman said.

"Is that question, or statement? You could carry Sheppard. McKay has done missions with Genii in our absence." Radek couldn't help but snap that a little. "Wait a moment. Try to reinitiate contact?"

"Cadman to McKay, you hear me Dr. McKay?" She asked, tapping her radio transmitter

He hoped that Rodney had done just what Cadman had questioned, that he was being reckless and and -- as long as it was beneficial to their end goal, to getting Sheppard alive and repaired, and if there was even a slim chance, they already knew time was of the essence.

"Hear you. Heading your way."

"You need a hand?" Cadman asked a little uncertainly. "With Colonel Sheppard?"

Radek was listening in and he could hear pretty disturbing sounds in the background. Sheppard couldn't be walking could he? Or trying to walk?

"Would actually be appreciated, since someone doesn't want to be lifted up. Apparently? He's not a damsel in distress. Which I hadn't noticed, but you learn something new and actually, yes, I could use help."

"I'll come down, give you a hand." Cadman was already on her way out of the jumper then and Radek just found it hard to believe. The man was one step shy of life support and he was refusing help? Well yes, maybe, maybe that was a very John Sheppard thing to do, but by the time they staggered communally into sight, trying to drag him and half support him, Radek was pretty sure a stretcher should've been involved.

It should have been. Rodney had one arm holding John's arm over his shoulder, and one arm around John's waist, and they were trying to not hurt the side that had deteriorated, but it was hard to only carry _half_ of John. If Radek had not suspected that he'd just get in the way, he would have tried to help.

But they would have mowed him over. "Tell me there's someone in there ready to fly this to the gate address?"

"Stackhouse is being pilot," he said and moved things out of the way. "Here, here... lie him down."

John was grimacing, pale and face drawn with shadows. "I... am... not completely helpless."

No, but he looked like someone who wasn't going to live more than a couple of hours.

"Shut up. Just shut up, okay, you can't lie to me and we have a chance in hell right now that Doctor Biro can't give you. So you can protest and you can put me in the brig when we get back here, but we're *going*," Rodney snapped.

Radek wondered what it was that Rodney expected to be put in a brig for when he was just trying to save John’s life.

"It's... usually a bad thing, stealing a... doctors sedative hypo and shooting her with it," John managed even as the pair of them literally laid him down in the back of the Jumper.

"Let's get out of here!" Cadman called out. "Radek, dial up the gate address."

Radek stepped up to do just that, even as the back of the jumper closed slowly. Dialing, dialing, he could dial...

"Hey, she was going to hit *me* with it. Shoot. Whatever. Like hell I was just going to stand there and let her pretend to be ethical at me."

"I... thought it was going to be another painkiller," John replied and he could see the mess the anti-wraith corrosive had made of his left side and the areas it was breaking through. Blood was seeping through dressing as if the wounds were fresh. "I... was quite looking forward to one of those."

"Biro put down her own dog herself before she was stationed in Atlantus. Like hell I'm letting her near you when I know what she's capable of. Humane, my ass." Radek glanced over his shoulder, and took a deep breath before he hit the last button. Yes, well, Perhaps it would have been.

It got a lock and that was promising so they just had to try and go for it. He just hoped, as they entered the event horizon, that it wasn't already too late.

* * *

Feeling like this took him back to when he'd done the obligatory ER duty as an intern before he started specializing. Too many stimulants, not enough sleep and that feeling of a mind skittering over bone deep exhaustion. 'Trinaria's' population had swelled enormously and he had been pretty much treating emergency cases since they started filtering to the plant in their thousands. 

Carson had never heard of so many of a population escaping before. Usually it was a handful, a few hundred at the most. But this was a full scale evacuation of thousands and all of a sudden they were his problem to deal with. 

He got some triage going on, there were some Genii doctors who could do that much, but when it came to not giving up on someone, that came back to him.

Including the guy who had been dragged in with a severed wraith arm still embedded in his chest.

Carson had never seen anyone *survive* like that. He had to have been a tough old Genii, clearly a soldier, but Carson didn't know who he was and Evan and Simpson and Ford had been busy dealing with Ladon of the Genii about the refugee situation to really do any facial recognition or body claiming for those who were still *alive*.

Even if the wraith enzyme had twisted the man's face, turned one eye an unblinking glassy black. He was breathing, but the withdrawal was going to kill him. All Carson could do was restrain the man and sedate him, and watch the case in a half-curious way because he'd always wanted to do deeper research about the interaction with the Wraith's proteins and enzymes than he'd had a chance to do.

Of course, if he had a few dead wraith lying around, he might be able to wean the man off of it slowly, carefully by extracting the enzyme, but most of the dead wraith he knew of were contaminated with the anti-wraith corrosive and he couldn't send anyone out right now, even if Ronon and Ford had been up for a little wraith hunting.

Carson was beyond tired, beyond everything, he couldn't remember when he had last slept, or eaten. He kept leaving food with one bite taken out of it all over the place because the moment he sat down another crisis happened. He looked at the sandwich Teyla had presented to him with dire threats. She was right, if he didn't eat, they would be scraping him off of the floor.

And at that point, they might as well sweep him into a plastic bag, and just drop him in a dustbin, because Carson felt just that wasted. It was starting to wind down, though, so he had time to eat a bite of the sandwich, time to think about what to do with the wraith-infected man, time to think about what their supplies and -- well, Teyla was doing that. Teyla would keep track of that, while he kept to his things, and there was no need for him to stick his nose in what she did best any more than she'd tell him how to bandage.

"Doctor Beckett?" One of the Genii doctors, eyeing him with quiet surprise or suspicion. He wasn't sure what it was. "Commander Kolya's heart rate is rising again."

He got the impression that Commander Kolya was a big shot. He hadn't seen him on his one and only trip to the Genii homeworld. Then the person in charge was called Cowan or something. 

"Thank you son, let me take a look," he said and moved over. He could live without the suspicion. He wasn't sure if he should give the man more sedative, because he wasn't sure what was causing the effect. After a moment’s hesitation and a look at the monitors, he decided to move over onto opiates. Not the most modern approach, but it was possible that they would substitute and fool the brain. And if nothing else, it wouldn't hurt as much.

"What is that?" the question was suspicious, and honestly, Carson's nerves were wearing thin. "I want to know what you're giving him. He's our Chief. I know Ladon’s acting head, but..." But the Genii were nothing if not political, and why had no-one told Carson that before then?

Diplomacy, diplomacy...no, why the bloody hell was he worried about that? "Look son... you came to us for help, and we're helping. I do not appreciate being second guessed in my own bloody infirmary!" He took a deep breath and tried to find that centre of calm Teyla talked about. "It is a shot of methadone, which is a name that will mean nothing to you. It’s a drug that acts as a painkiller and mimics some addictive drug patterns which I am hoping will stop his body going into lethal withdrawal. Understand?"

There was a moment of silence, and then the young man gave a jerking nod of his head. "Yes'sir."

"Carson? Carson, Doctor Beckett?" Teyla's voice, Teyla calling for him from the other side of the infirmary. "Carson! A Gateship has just landed, and -- and the occupants are coming here, it is a medical emergency, but they are not one of _our_ Gateships!"

For a moment, he couldn't process what that meant and then he blinked. The might be someone in this galaxy or it could be Earth people, having got their message. "Did they say who they were and what the emergency was?"

It could be plague, it could be surgery or trauma, or ...anything. He couldn't just let them drag in someone who might kill the population.

"It's nothing like that plague we had to deal with is it?"

"They have an officer, a Colonel, who was shot with the anti-wraith weapon. One of them is dressed as a 'Lantean science officer, another as one of your marines, and there is a man in uniform pieces, Genii and 'Lantean. Evan is escorting them here." Teyla hurried towards him, then, and Carson decided to hurry it up with the opiates so he could see to the incomer.

"Let them in..." Carson said and his sandwich was left lying on the side again, and he was finishing the shot. "I want them in .. uh...in the outer infirmary. I'll get a dose of the antidote, see how we go with it."

The thing was, assuming the wound had been treated, it was then up to the antidote to do its thing so it wasn't a hard treatment, though preparation of the antidote sometimes reminded him of some esoteric spell. He injected the wraith-enzyme man, confident that would keep him under control and went to fetch the dosage of antidote. It sounded bad.

If it was someone from the SGC, the group that had been working with the Genii then he'd do what he could to see that they lived. And god, if they could get *home*, if they could really defeat the wraith somehow with better firepower, then Carson would do anything to help. Anything to just get them the one step forwards, towards Victory. The Athosians, the natives to the tower, they deserved that.

Teyla had already turned and left, leaving Carson to palm two vials of the antidote. Just one more person treated, and he'd rest. Just one more, and he'd rest.

He had to hunt for a clean hypodermic, wishing absently for his pressure hypo with a dim longing, and then as he heard the ruckus that had started up in the outer infirmary he started forward.

"He needs _help_ \-- why are you all standing there, someone get a doctor!"

Carson heard the voice before he stepped into the outer infirmary, and it jarred in his head for a moment, not quite real until he heard Evan's voice mutter. "My god, McKay. Just, he's on his way, this place has been a blood bath and how the hell are you even--"

No. No, he had to be hallucinating that. Lack of sleep, lack of food, not enough to drink and it _had_ to be a trick of the mind. That was Rodney's voice, but Rodney was dead. They'd had impeccable information from people who had seen the bodies of those slain in the Genii coup. He was... he was... shaking? Carson looked at his hands and discovered he had taken a step towards the door and turned and _looked_ and felt genuinely for a moment like his heart had exploded.

It was him. It was him and he was only dimly aware that there was a man lying on a stretcher, watching him as Rodney was arguing with Evan.

It was him who interrupted, somehow able to still Rodney's ranting even with a weak voice.

"Rodney... I think there's someone... you need to see here."

It was Rodney, Rodney who was turning to look at the quiet man, and then around the room. Except Carson wasn't sure how he was *seeing*, because there was something over his eyes, and suddenly it all made maddening sense that he would have had all the clues in front of him and no idea of the context of them. Rodney, dressed half like a Genii, something over his eyes, with the--

"Carson," Evan broke into the brief bout of quiet. "Give me the drug, I'll do it. And then everyone can have a nervous breakdown."

"No... no, son, I've seen you try to do emergency first aid and it's not a pretty sight," he said almost absently. "I'll do the injections, and then I'll have the nervous breakdown because I think I'm hallucinating... or can anyone else here see Rodney McKay here, or is it just me?"

The sad thing was, he was absolutely serious. It wouldn't be the first time he'd imagined he'd seen him.

Cadman - god, it was Cadman and that was somehow easier to believe than Rodney, raised her hand. "Hey, I can see him and hear him. Believe me, I wouldn't want to be imagining the things he's been saying."

Evan grinned and raised his hand. "Definitely him, had to pinch him to make sure he was real. I see him as well."

Down on the stretcher, the man he didn't know who looked one step from death was barely able to raise his hand and say. "It's him. And he... he thought you were dead and looks like you’re..." He couldn't manage any more and he visibly struggled to stay conscious and what type of doctor was he letting him suffer like that?

He started to move, started to take the man's vitals, god, looked like it was his left side. Left arm, then, even if the tissue seemed waxy and dead. Carson turned it over, and couldn't bother with an alcohol swab because they'd been out of them for about two days and no time to rush grain through a distilling process. The injection was easy, one vial and then a second because he couldn't risk it being too *little* with a wound that had deteriorated like that. 

"Carson?" Rodney looked towards him, sounding more than a little lost. "No, no, no, you're dead, I saw your body, you're dead..."

He very, very carefully put the needle down, and a million things to say flashed through his minds as elusive as the words he would say in dreams and nightmare. He opened his mouth and then there was nothing he could say that would go anywhere near doing justice to the moment. Instead, he stepped closer, close again and it was like he couldn't stop himself. He just had to touch him, hold him feel that he was real before he could finally admit that he was there.

His arms closed around a warm solid body. Thinner, harder than he remembered but he'd say much the same about himself. And... god, he smelled the same and all he could managed then was a broken word in his ear of a whispered "Rodney..."

"Oh god." And Rodney was bear-hugging him back, crushing him close. "Carson, oh god, it's you, it's you, you're not dead, oh..." Rodney pressed his face in against the side of Carson's neck, voice a broken mantra of shock. He was alive. He was alive, and that meant that maybe Elizabeth was alive, too, if the intel had been wrong. And he'd never in his life been happier for bad intel.

All he wanted to say was 'I love you, I love you...' over and over and he knew he was crying but who the hell cared about that? "I... they said... they said they had seen all of you killed. All of them... I've missed you... more than you can imagine..."

And he wanted to shut away the world, and just *hold* Rodney.

"All of who killed?" Rodney's voice was shaky, and he was still threatening to crush the air out of Carson, holding onto him like he expected him to disappear if he let go. That there were others in the room, that there was a patient right there who needed monitoring, didn't matter. "God, I even have the flag from your damned jacket, what the hell happened?"

"We... we were on Manara.." Carson found himself unable to speak coherently. "The Wraith came and... there was a lot of fire. We lost many people."

Too many, the air had been choked with smoke and shadow flickers of Wraith thoughts in every wisp. "Most of us were injured. I was... I don't know how you found the flag, it was still with me... and I had to try and remote link the Gateships to follow me. It was nearly too much. The Wraith kept following us. Attacking. For months..."

He wanted to kiss him and even as they swayed together a little he could see the injured ill man looking at them with an indescribable, bittersweet expression before he very calmly lay back and closed his eyes as if preparing for something a little more final than sleep.

"We have a lot to catch up on. God." Rodney held on tight, but he seemed to follow Carson's gaze. Carson wasn't sure, but it struck him that Rodney could very well be their blind man. That piece over his eyes... 

"John? Hey, I can see you glowing over there."

There was a pause before there was an answer. "I'm pretty tired Rodney," the man said, not even opening his eyes. "It hurts..."

Glowing, that was intriguing. He came back to himself, registering the fact that increased pain was a positive sign because it meant this were starting to try and work again. "My God, what am I thinking? Doing this when there is someone in pain needing medical attention. Rodney love, I need to see to... John is it?"

"John Sheppard," Rodney confirmed or maybe just told him for the first time, but he let go of John, seemed to recover himself even as he stepped back, rubbing a shaky hand over his face. "Hell. Hell. I never thought the Wraith attacking would lead to all this. You're alive. You're the idiot who made the antidote, it just, it just figures, I should have known. Does it work?"

"Aye, it has some success. It depends on how far the injury has progressed and the condition of the person injured," Carson replied and it was hard to tear himself away from wanting to touch Rodney. "Well, John... you managed to get yourself pretty badly shot up here."

Sheppard opened his eyes and he could still see that look there. "Well, you know they were aiming at Rodney. I just happened to be in way."

"He saved my life. Back when the homeworld was invaded. And Elizabeth, and Sora's lives, and some friends of ours. And defended the gate while the evacuations took place." Rodney cleared his throat a little, staring at the both of them, and Carson wanted to say something but there were *people* there.

He needed to get them out of there. Needed to get Cadman and god, Radek. Radek was there, looking nervously at Teyla and at Evan.

He was flying to pieces just when he needed to stay together the most. All of them, Elizabeth was alive, and there was Radek and Cadman and... this wasn't just about him. Or Rodney. It was about someone who might still be dying, and even if he wasn't, in about twelve hours was going to wish he was because the body starting to work again was never a pretty thing. 

"Then I owe him some concentration and gratitude.” Carson said and then looked around. "Evan, would you mind taking everyone to our conference room and spreading the word? I'm sure there will be people delighted to hear the news and that Radek and Lieutenant Cadman have old friends to catch up with. Rodney... it's up to you if you want to stay here or go and wait until I am finished. I want very much to talk with you in greater detail."

"I'll stay." Rodney cleared his throat a little, and stepped closer to the bed, but still out of Carson's way, as if he thought he wouldn't be a distraction. "I, uh. Kidnapped, John, actually, to get here. Sedated Biro. I can't imagine anyone who followed us or who'll be coming after us will be happy with me." 

Carson laughed and was surprised at how alien it felt to him. "God, I've missed you," he said and smiled. "Before you go, would someone mind helping me lift John to a bed?" he asked

"I could... get up," John tried to say and Carson looked at him.

"Yes, and pigs will bloody well fly. You stay right where you are. You're in for a pretty uncomfortable night Colonel Sheppard."

"Well... great." He was sounding genuinely exhausted now.

"Hey, you're not going to die now. And, there's more of us alive than I thought. If you hadn't pushed for it, I know I wouldn't be." Rodney's voice was no-nonsense, and he shifted to help lift John. He never would have done that before, never would have picked anything up, anyone up unless it was dire.

It probably still was. "Count of three?"

They lifted on the count, and for a moment Carson had to remember to be the doctor again, to set up drips and IV's and to swab over wounds that were going to start bleeding again when the tissues revitalized, to say soothing things to a man who was hiding how he felt way too well, physically and mentally and all the time, he couldn't wait to finish so he could touch Rodney again, kiss him again, all those things he had prayed for just one more time, one more chance because he was dead and lost to him.

Right now, this made him believe they had a chance.

* * *

The Tower's infirmary was something else.

It was as Atlantis's had been when Carson had run it, full of bodies and lives flickering, hanging on. There was a morbid fascination to watching a set of colors, a pattern, fade into a black that seemed to suck the very light around it, and extinguish without any last lingering flickers. To watch John do the opposite, twinkles and twinges of pain in his body, was equally morbid, twinges of the yellow that had been familiar in Kolya, anxiousness and desperation and worry twisted up. He was recovering, and worried, and Rodney had no idea how to say to him 'Don't', when Carson had him mildly sedated so he could heal without pain for a while, because there would be pain.

And itching, Rodney guessed. So he'd walked a little while Carson monitored John's initial reaction to the sedative. And he tried to not concentrate too hard on the patterns he saw, some of them familiar. There were a lot of Genii in the room, familiar patterns from Kolya's men, patterns from different units that he knew of, knew.

And at the end of the room, sectioned off a little, he could see the dancing leaves, twisted up with thick inky black. Kolya, ill. Kolya sick or injured was a void instead of an earthy haven for leaves, and Rodney stalked closer, curiosity getting the better of him as he flickered through views.

He had half believed him dead, and to find him here under the care of Carson - and he still hadn't felt the full impact of the revelation of Carson being alive, he knew that - that was just strange and a little confusing.

It was definitely him and in some of the views he could see the chest wounds and something strange about him. The black wasn't just an absence of energy, it was something living and twisting, demanding and the longer he watched, the more agitated that pattern became.

Twisted up with the leaves, and it was all wrong, it was warping Kolya.

Kolya hadn't been perfect. Carson was alive and it didn't explain the flag and Rodney didn't have time to think about it because. Didn't have and hadn't had and probably wouldn't have for a long time. Kolya was alive and John was going to live, and Carson was just finishing up making sure of that. 

Rodney had no idea what to do except watch, watch Kolya's colors shift in ancient view.

"Rodney... " It was a familiar rasp of a rough voice. One he had heard in too many situations, too intimate not to feel something in response

He just couldn't feel *nothing*. Acastus had been a way of life for him for so long. Good and bad and sheer survival. "What happened to you?" He didn't step closer, because there was something wrong with Kolya's colors.

"Apparently a Wraith killed me as I killed it," Kolya replied and his tone was predatory. "Something about enzymes and strengthening. They say I will die again and think I do not know..."

"You look wounded to me." He stayed in the doorway, filtering through views again. There was extensive damage to the left of Acastus' body, internal, spreading from the chest wound. Funny, John's was on the left, too, but Kolya's bullet to the shoulder had been the right shoulder and Rodney remembered that. "You've been changed on a cellular level."

"I feel fine. More than fine. I need this enzyme and then I will be fine." There was a pause. "I do not believe the doctor when he says he has none. You will find it for me won't you Rodney?"

Rodney shifted, crossed his arms over his chest. "No. There is none. All they have is antidote for the weapon I created."

There was a twisting knot in Kolya's colors. "You believe that? Hmm? They are not to be trusted, you _know_ that. They created a means of nullifying our greatest weapon! That makes them practically like Wraith worshippers!"

That was Kolya without his focus or calm.

And Acastus was all focus and calm. That was all he _was_ , plotting and thinking things through and carrying them out to the letter of his plan. "The doctor who's been treating you is Carson Beckett. These people are Atlanteans, and Athosians. I just saw Teyla Emmagen."

"Your... friends. Your lover... the one who didn't look for you for *three* years and you think you can trust him?" Kolya was practically hissing at him. "He has what he wants here. He's in charge, why would he need you?"

Kolya was trying to push his buttons, trying to hit the weaknesses that Rodney had always had. Insecurity and abandonment and unsureness. "You were in charge. Why did you need me?"

"Because you were my best hope of destroying the Wraith," Kolya replied and laughed harshly. "What? You didn't know that? I thought you were a genius Dr. McKay."

Rodney tipped his head down, looking at the floor. He'd known. He'd known, and he'd _known_ he knew, but there was knowing and there was... hearing it, Rodney supposed. He'd needed Kolya, too, but it was never love. Even if it felt like someone was pulling at his heart just then. "Congratulations, then. We're down to 20 Hive ships, maybe less. Unfortunately, two cities were unable to evacuate, and scouts tell us that the Genii homeworld is uninhabitable."

"And the Wraith would've killed us all," Kolya replied and he sat up. "That Lantean colonel wants you only for the same, your Beckett has power now. You should come with me..."

The twisting blackness was billowing, leaking like a poison fog into his brain and the twisting fall leaves in the wind were being choked out.

"No, Kolya. I'm staying with my own people, now. And others of us are staying with the Lanteans because they trust the direction they'll go in. I trust them." He shifted away, glancing for someone who could re-sedate Kolya.

"After all I did for you! Took you to my home, my bed..." He had no doubt Kolya's expression had twisted into something ugly. "You _wanted_ to stay...you _wanted_ me... " His voice was rising, harsh and angry.

"You told me that the rest of my people had been slain, and that Carson was dead." Rodney snapped that, couldn't help but. "There was nothing for me to do _but_ what I did."

"As far as I knew that was the truth – one you had to accept," Kolya was getting out of the bed. "He was dead and you needed to move on."

"What's going on in here?" Carson's soft brogue could develop an edge when he needed it, and it was hard not to be distracted by him. If John was diamond brilliants and northern lights, Carson was dawn and dusk in all their glory and he'd seen Carson _blaze_ in his center when he'd looked at Rodney, with something incandescent inside.

He wondered if that was how people looked when they fell in love.

"I think Kolya needs to be sedated again." Rodney twisted, looking at Carson, letting himself soak in that dusk and dawn cusp look, the incandescent center sopped in worry and delight and exhaustion.

He wasn't sure he'd ever seen someone that be that tired and still be standing up.

"Commander, you need to rest... we are trying to accustom your body to the withdrawal process," Carson said soothingly. "You need to trust us."

"If you just rest and bear through it, you'll be all right." Rodney hoped Kolya would listen to him, but it was hard to tell with that swirling black in his colors.

Kolya did a sharp bark of strained laughter. "Of course. I should've known. You really are blind Rodney, in a lot of ways. Give me the enzyme! I know you have it."

"If I had some, I would be using it," Carson replied. "You're not doing yourself any good like this!" He moved over to try and gently steer him back into the bed and the blackness inside Kolya uncoiled violently like a spring even as he lashed out and grabbed Carson around the throat, pushing him high against the wall with one hand when he shouldn't have had the strength.

There was no _way_ , and Rodney was on him in a split second, trying to get between Carson and Kolya – it was too easy, almost inviting, to shove his hand against the seat of that curling black, the wound in the center of Kolya's chest. "Help! Dammit, where the hell are the marines when we need them?!'”

"Give me the fucking enzyme, or I'll kill... him." There was a scalpel in his hand then the coils of black seemed to become a twisting black flame. A hand shoved Rodney back almost casually, but with great force.

"Don't have any..." Carson choked out again.

"Acastus! Even if there was any in here, how could I tell what it looked like?" Rodney stepped backwards, staring, and then grabbed a worn old blade in one hand off of probably one of the precious few trays of equipment that Carson had. That, or Carson was trading with the Hoffans again. Hard to guess, and he'd ask later.

The mention of his name seemed to halt Acastus a little, and then another voice from the door say. "Put him down..."

And it was John, literally holding himself up on the door frame with that damn willing-to-die heroism glow that he seemed to trail around with him. He seemed to be aiming a gun, or trying to. "In a few minutes, Major Lorne will be up here... you might want to think about leaving."

Without killing himself. Jesus, and John was supposed to be unconscious, wasn't he? Rodney backed up to support John if he had to, or take the gun from him. A man in a hospital gown wasn't that intimidating, even if that was roughly what Acastus was in. "Just set him down and you get to leave."

Kolya lowered Carson down and he coughed a little, trying to get air. "Then give me that other drug," Kolya demanded. "Immediately."

"The methadone, but..." Carson hesitated.

"If you don't I will kill someone in this Infirmary," Kolya replied sharply. "Now doctor!"

Carson moved and picked up a bottle. "All I have at the moment."

Opiates, the Genii had. If Carson needed to know about local opiates, hell, if he wanted to get them imported from earth, they could. "Give it to him," Rodney hissed, because protecting medical supplies wasn't worth it if they could get Kolya to leave.

Carson did so and Kolya turned and looked at him. "Goodbye Rodney... I should kill him, kill them both but... for you, I shall just leave. As you did to me."

And then he moved, and he'd never seen anyone move that fast who wasn't Wraith. John was knocked down, his gun gone in a moment quicker than the eye.

And part of Rodney wanted to follow that blur of motion, but Carson was choking to breathe and Sheppard was just, it was stupidly heroic and someone needed to break him of that habit because he couldn’t save everyone every time. Rodney crouched down with John, watching his brilliant colors fluctuate as his curled up in pain from hitting the floor. "John, Jesus, fuck, doesn't anyone here have radi..."

Radios, of course. Rodney reached down to his belt, pulling out the Genii communicator. "Ladon, Tyrus, it's Doctor McKay. Chief Kolya has been compromised by the wraith. I repeat, he's been compromised by the Wraith. If you see him in the tower, do no try to talk to him, and attempt to see that he leaves or is taken out. He has been compromised and has shown inhuman hungers." 

Not quite a lie.

"Understood," came the reply. "We will inform the Lantean military. Tyrus out."

John was making sounds of barely stifled pain, and it was no wonder.

"How... how did he..." Carson was there with him. "Colonel Sheppard, you are meant to be sedated. To most people that means unconscious and _not_ moving."

"Good luck with that." Rodney cleared his throat, and tipped his head down, staring down at John. "He flew a jumper when he was first wounded. Can we carry him back to bed and start over again? Is your throat okay?"

"I'm fine Rodney," Carson said. "All I want to do is...just go back to my quarters with you and..." He could hear the exhalation. "Let’s lift John up, and this time you are going to get some sleep."

"No more heroics." And as long as he played nonchalant, there was a chance in hell that John might relax. One down, two left, and that was a lot less confusing than Kolya pulling at his strings, making him dance. 

John didn't unknot and uncurl until Carson had actually injected what seemed like the contents of an entire bottle and the doctor heaved a sigh. "He's a bit of a handful isn't he?"

"He's amazing." Rodney took a moment to sight the edge of the sheets on a chemical composition level, and wrapped his fingers around the edge of the blanket to pull it up to John's chin, tucking his hands away beneath the blanket. "Radek said he was the driving force to get the SGC back here. As stubborn as he is... I'd believe it." Rodney tipped his head back up, watched Carson's colors shift.

"Aye, well from the scars he has, he would have to be more than stubborn just to be alive,” Carson replied looking relieved when the new shift came into the Infirmary. "I would say at some point he underwent some very systematic torture."

"Probably." That it didn't seem out of the ordinary as far as possibilities went was surprising to Rodney. It seemed possible. Graspable, understandable, because that was the kind of world he'd lived in for too long. "You look tired. I'm tired. And I've missed you."

"Let me just hand over and... we can go back to my quarters?" Carson asked. "I've still got this nagging sense that... that this isn't real. It's not like I haven't spent a long time wanting you, even _seeing_ you or hearing your voice. " 

He wasn't sure if the rough voice was with emotion or from Kolya trying to strangle Carson. "I never understood what people meant when they said their world ended when someone died or was killed. Until then. Everything since has been filling in time waiting until I could re-join you. I didn't plan it like that, that's just the way it's been."

He understood that. He understood that well. "I've been going day by day. And I wanted to take the wraith with me. But..." Waiting, yes, it had been more of a holding pattern most times, recently in particular, than a life. "Do the handover. I'm just going to... sit with John, and you can grab me on the way out." He was tired, and worn thin and even if he and Carson didn't say a word more to each other until morning, if he could just hold him, feel him, prove that he was real in more ways than the dusk and dawn coloring...

That was what Rodney wanted.

It seemed to be what Carson wanted as well, and John was finally still and at rest and for a moment, he wished he'd been able to see again. To see how John looked now, whether he was better or worse. To see how Carson really looked and if he was okay.

Carson's comments did make him wonder a little. There was a lot he didn't know about John, a lot he kept hidden because the way he was didn't just happen out of natural talent. It was something tempered, beaten into him, twisted into a reflex.

"Coming, love?"

Coming, love. That easy, that, that simple, and it shouldn't have been but it was. It was just that easy, and he'd missed him and he'd missed him the whole time. They'd work out their separate histories and what had happened later. He'd work out John, later. When life was less go go go. When John wasn't dying by the second.

"Yeah." Rodney stood, reaching for Carson. "I wish I could see you. I mean, your face."

"Well, when we've had a chance to settle a little, would you mind me looking at your eyes?" Carson said, unashamedly slipping his arm around him. "Perhaps there is something we can do, or something.” He was leading the way and if he knew Carson the quarters would not be far from the Infirmary.

It felt right. It felt like he was at home and stretching out on his old sofa. It felt amazing, and he leaned into Carson, not focusing hard on anything because seeing didn't matter. "It was a drug. I, it's a long story. You can look if you want, but they sewed them closed years ago." And he remembered that strange feeling, the tugging, and the first touch of the visor that had broken the darkness with joy.

But it was nothing compared to real sight. Shapes and colors and no constant stream of data even if it made his life easier. "I've missed you."

"Rodney, you have no idea how much I've missed you. Frankly, I blamed myself. Evan... Evan kept wanting to take a mission, try and storm the Genii but in those first months we were having a Wraith attack every few days and over half of us had injuries..." Carson's voice sounded low and apologetic. "They shouldn't've put me in charge of this bloody place. I had to make the decision. I understand if you'll blame me for that. I blame _me_ for that, I did when I heard that the Genii command had all been slaughtered along with... their allocated."

"Cowan. Kolya, Sora, Idos, Ladon, they coup'd Cowan. We were the second tier leadership. I was... being uncooperative. Waiting for rescue, I suppose. Cowan had me kidnapped, and..." Rodney waved a hand slightly, a vague gesture to his eyes as he easily kept with Carson's slow pace. Tired pace. "I was missing for weeks. They kept moving me from location to location, trying to break me down. The effort in working together to find me was what led them to plan Cowan's overthrow."

"Kolya..." It seemed that Carson was making the connection. "I see... they hurt you?" He could tell that Carson was going to obsess over that. He'd always been protective of his physical health and that was a good feeling.

Now, now it was one more thing that Carson really didn't need to be worrying about. "Yeah. And you're not allowed to get all – it's not your fault. It's not. I'm declaring this a no guilting area." Rodney tugged at Carson a little, even as Carson stopped in front of a closed door. It was almost exactly like Atlantis.

Carson chuckled a little as the door opened for him. "If you take that away Rodney, I don't know how much will be left." He stepped inside, and the lights went on around him. It was the room of someone who used it just as somewhere to sleep. 

But Carson was pulling him closer, facing him. "Can I kiss you?"

"You don't have to ask." Except he did. Carson always had, when they'd first started, bizarre questions like that that were politeness that had really pissed Rodney off. But he'd missed them, and it was easy to look at Carson in ancient view, those familiar sparks he'd seen in John visible when he leaned in to kiss Carson first.

The difference was in the kissing. John had been fireworks and light, and Carson was like rooting into the earth, coming home, not having to guess any more because he knew that someone lived and breathed who loved him absolutely. There was nothing conditional about Carson or his emotions and sometimes that had been frightening and too much commitment in the way he touched him, at least at the start. Now... now, Carson was kissing him as if he had come back from the dead.

It was like coming home. Rodney knotted his fingers tight into Carson's shirt, holding onto him tight because he'd supposed to have been _dead_ , and he wasn't. He'd been living in an ancient city and coming up with miracle cures and he was _alive_.

He was pretty sure that it was going to be a long time before he really accepted it. He brushed his fingers over the patch on Carson's jacket that would be the St Andrew's cross. It had been one of the last things that he had seen. A tattered burned around the edges St Andrews cross...

And Carson was pulling him over towards the bed, urgently and the sparks were glittering against the dull colors of his tiredness that drifted like clouds over the dusk-dawn colors of his self.

"We can do the reunion sex after you get some sleep," Rodney suggested, even though he kissed at Carson's mouth, his jaw, and started to feel his way over Carson's shirt to get it off. "I can see how tired you are. When did you sleep last?"

"I don't actually remember. Not since the Genii started arriving," Carson murmured. "I love you, but you're right, there is the possibility I might fall asleep mid... everything."

"It's been a few days, then." And Carson could get himself strung out on uppers and drugs just as well as Rodney ever could. He started to take control then, steered Carson towards the bed – and there was something wrong with the ancients that they had those narrow, Spartan beds and, oh, doors that opened themselves – so he could coax him into sleep.

"Probably, " Carson replied and he sounded like he was smiling and he wanted to see that again, see his eyes, see the way that worry made him crease his forehead. They'd had times like this in Atlantis and Carson probably didn't even know it still existed or how John had gotten there, but right now they were tangling together as they lay down. Carson had started laughing just a little as they moved together so inelegantly and there was a tinge of hysteria there and it made him wonder what had happed to Carson in that time. What had gone wrong for _him_ , while they'd been separated.

"You're under astrophysicist's orders to rest." He finally got Carson's shirt off, started to shrug his own button down wool jacket-shirt off. "Is there a table or something I can put the visor on?"

He saw the flicker of energy as Carson gestured and a surface slid out of the wall next to the bed. "There Rodney..." Carson murmured, helping him with the top and his hands running over skin, learning changes by touch.

There had been a lot. New scars, new muscles. Training with Kolya's people and always being the worst, the last, but it was still pretty good for Rodney. He shrugged off his jacket, and let it land on the floor while he reached up to take the visor off. "Thanks."

There was a pause as he uncovered his permanently closed eyes and a small sound from Carson even as a shaking touch brushed over the stitched seal. "Oh... love..."

It didn't hurt, but he did flinch a little from the unfamiliar touch before he leaned to seek the shelf for the visor with his fingers. "At least this way I can see something. I just can't sleep with it on. It starts to call up random data."

"Aye, I can understand that," Carson replied, but his voice sounded like there was sadness mixed in with it. For Rodney. But Carson’s arms were around him in that familiar 'safety and comfort' feeling he hadn't realized he had been missing until now.

It was desperately easy to just lie there, half-dressed and holding onto Carson as much as Carson was holding onto him. "You can put it on sometime. It's just keyed to the gene. John's tried it, just to see what I see. You look like a sunset."

"I will, but I can barely see straight," Carson replied. "A sunset? What do you look like?"

"I don't know," Rodney murmured, because he was too tired, too emotionally exhausted to remember what John had said he looked like. "Lightning, I think. It doesn't work with mirrors. John looks like he's thirty seconds from ascending. Elizabeth looks like one of Atlantis's stained glass windows, Kolya looked like leaves in fall, Bates..." Rodney shifted closer, trying to get Carson to relax. "Well, he's dead, but he looked very earthy."

He was relaxing, little by little and it was a good feeling for someone to respond to him for a change rather than be made to respond. "You sound fond of John," Carson murmured, his fingers finding their way to toy with his hair.

"I am." And Rodney could admit it without shame. He moved one of his own hands, flattening it against Carson's shoulder blade. "He's something else. He led the SGC to come back here, and Carson, the city... it's still there. It's beautiful, lit up with a ZPM of its own."

"Atlantis is still there?" Carson breathed and he could feel his reaction. "My lab is still there? The infirmary here is good but it's like comparing a GP's surgery to a hospital... I could... ." There was a moment of silence. "There are things I would need to deal with. I can't just walk away from here. We know there is an attack coming."

"First the Genii, then the..." Rodney brushed his lips against Carson's mouth. "Twenty something hive ships, then. They'll feed for a few weeks before they come here. We, the Genii, they routed them. They have to be limping now. We can help this place fight back, too."

"That we will need," Carson replied kissing him again. "Rodney... don't be a dream when I wake up. I don't think I could stand that."

Don't be a dream. Only Carson would think or say that, and it made Rodney reach down, seeking the blankets out with his fingers to pull them up a little. "If I was a dream, I would have shown up with beer, too. And Kolya wouldn't have tried to kill you."

"Well, I've been having some pretty crazy dreams lately," he murmured and he was definitely relaxing. "I'm sorry I haven't given you a proper welcome home." His voice sounded sleepy and the hand rested on the back of his neck longer and longer.

"Shhh. Shhh." Rodney let his lips linger against Carson's cheek, just feeling him, listening to him. "Just good to have you back. Sleep." 

"I love you Rodney," Carson murmured and he could feel the catch in his breathing. "I always have, always will..."

"I know." Carson went slack, slowly, after that, loose in Rodney's arms.

And if Rodney didn't fall asleep for a while afterwards, it was understandable. His head was twisted up with thoughts and fears and plans, new plans, plans to protect this planet, Carson, _this_ city, and then, then maybe he'd get to just live on Atlantis and enjoy life a little.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

John knew himself well enough to know which stage of the healing process he was going through at any given point in time. He'd sat through enough therapy to recognize depression, though Cam had called it "moping". So he was moping and doing it with the full weight of experience behind it. 

Beckett... Carson had been right about the pain. It was like the curious agony of nerves coming back to life after having a dead leg or arm, _all_ the fucking time. 

He just wanted to get on with his moping in peace. He knew what was going to happen, the parallels were too sharp and clear for him to miss. He'd gotten Rodney back to his loved one just like he had with Leo. They had been ecstatic to see each other, the real thing just happening in front of him and it twisted him up inside because hey, no need for him in the picture and he was just too damn tired to keep trying. He'd half hoped that Kolya might just kill him and save him the trouble of trying to not delude himself any more.

It wasn't going to happen and he knew it. All around him, people were hurrying, getting ready for the next attack and he was wondering if he was going to be flat out for that as well.

He didn't want to be. He wanted to be active for it. The Wraith ships were, according to Rodney, following a predictable feeding pattern. He'd told John that their ships were organic in nature, and they needed time to 'heal', as well as time to travel. So the Genii scientists were busy making the very liquid that Carson had created a cure for, distributing the anti-wraith weapon to planets that Rodney predicted were most likely to be culled next. It was strategic for those planets to fight back the hardest they could, but Rodney had coldly pointed out that the fewer wraith there were who came to _that_ planet, the better.

Lessons learned from Kolya weren’t apparently quick to be lost for Rodney.

The disturbing thing of it was that Rodney set up lab in the infirmary, seeing as there were no functional scientific labs in the Tower. And he kept talking to John.

This was making it difficult to mope effectively, because the man captured his attention even when he was just sitting there. And it made it hard to come to terms with the fact that he was meant to be adjusting to being alone again. It was strange but he really did feel on the outside of things not just because of Rodney and Carson but because he was the one that had no actual ties. Most of the people who had come to Atlantis with him had worked with those who had escaped from the original mission, even if they had stayed on Earth. They had a history, all of them and he didn't. Even Radek had more of a history with them, than he did with him.

When they visited, and Elizabeth and the Athosian woman called Teyla greeted each other as long lost friends, he saw a reflection of how he felt in the large fighter who walked with her. They exchanged a glance that said, 'yeah, I'm standing outside this on my own as well ". Kinda weird to have more in common with an alien than people from his own world.

But there it was, even if Rodney had set up camp beside his bed. He felt like it was all ending even if, hey, he'd done a really amazing thing, according to Rodney. They'd thought they didn't have a chance in hell, but they had more than that, now. They could connect to Earth again and the Daedalus was almost back -- assuming nothing had happened -- and what was left of the first expedition was together again, and...

And none of them really _talked_ about Earth.

So it was a rescue for people who didn't want to be rescued and that left him pretty useless. And okay he was wallowing, and he knew it wasn't good for him but he _hurt_ and he couldn't have any painkillers worth a damn. 

And he was bored. He could say he was bored because he couldn't admit he was lonely.

Rodney's laptop was sitting in his chair, but Rodney himself had run off to do something, something about drones and trying to lace them with extra charges. John wasn't sure, but it sounded very mad scientist and he didn't doubt that Rodney would do it.

So, he stole it and it took a little thought but he managed to crack the password and was reading over Rodney's work because there was Math, and Math soothed things in his mind so he didn’t react embarrassingly badly to everything.

He was so absorbed that he didn't notice when someone came in and was standing watching him.

"Colonel?" the voice was not-quite familiar, and when he looked up, it wasn't anyone that John would have recognized out of uniform. In uniform, though, Major Lorne had a name patch still on his shoulder, and most of a uniform, even if it looked like it had been repaired more than once. 

"Hey," John said with a look up. "Major Lorne right?" Cam had known him, some of the people he'd worked with had respected him. And he looked like he'd been holding it together. "Have a seat."

"Thanks. That McKay's computer?" He sat down, casually, not at the least bit deferential to John even though he'd started with rank.

"Yeah," he replied rather guiltily putting it down. "Got a bit... bored. Thought I'd see if he had something like solitaire on here."

The irony might just kill him.

"From what I remember, he's never been a solitaire guy. Completely reformatted the HD first thing. That's his baby," Lorne said with a gesture. It must have been if the sight of it was still recognizable to Lorne after over three years had passed. "Passworded and all. Hey, don't have to play stupid around here, sir. They don't let knuckleheads into the SGC."

John grimaced. "I'd know a few people who'd argue with that. You know, I'm not really your commanding officer here... you don't have to 'sir' me. Way I understand it, this is your territory."

"Sir, my commanding officer died in his first 48 hours in this Galaxy. I'm sure you've read the reports." Lorne sat back in the chair, studying John. "I want to know what orders you have regarding us. By us, I mean... the first Atlantis mission. And what the SGC wants to do with us. I know you've been speaking with them via Cadman and Markham, and I could've asked them, but."

John cleared his throat and looked at him. "Before they would let us come back here, we had to find two ZPM's. We did that. They didn't expect there to be survivors, but there are. However, it moved rapidly from a rescue, to an imperative to secure Atlantis and maintain a foothold here. They are going to want to Atlantis manned and ...populated. Back in the Milky Way, things are getting nasty with the Ori. Weapons of the ancients are the best hope."

"McKay says there are less Hive ships now than there's been in the collective memory of the Genii's alliance. If we can destroy them once and for all? We'll only have the more mundane things in this Galaxy left trying to kill us, and I'd be glad to face that again." He gave John a smile, a flash of teeth that was only mildly, comfortingly charismatic. "What I want to know is if any of us are ever going to be allowed back home. No-one's talking about it because they don't want to hear a negative answer."

"Allowed?" John blinked a little. "What’dya mean allowed? That was part of my mission, find you guys, and bring you home if you wanted. We've got a link home. We can walk backwards and forwards now from Earth to here."

"We've been living with the native populations. We've sort of let the rules slide. I didn't know if they'd consider us compromised or not." Lorne's expression was grim, more than a little worried, and they'd honestly thought it was possible. "You have to remember that we walked into a one way situation."

"I remember. Look Major... Evan right? Look, when I reported back there was some sign of you guys, they cracked open the champagne. When I found McKay and Dr. Weir they were pretty happy about that. Now Elizabeth tells me that after I got dragged off over here, she told them what we had found and they were very, very pleased. You want to go home, you get to do that. "

He hadn't expected Lorne to _look_ at him for a moment, eyes lingering, and then look down to the floor. "Yeah, thing is that I don't know if most of us can. We're not... and it's been years. What do you tell your family after this long? ‘Hey, I've been fighting space Vampires.’ " Lorne shook his head a little, looking back to John again. "Well, guess we'll cross that bridge when we get there. I don't think anyone'll want to leave before we finish this fight. I hope the Daedalus is bringing weaponry back."

"They'll be bringing nukes, but we might have to rely on the Chair here to take out the shields," he replied. "Unless you've cracked their shields before and haven't mentioned it."

"No cracked shields and even the drones struggle with that. There are a few weaker points, and until recently, they didn't bother with shields. The weakest point is the culling beam, as McKay demonstrated to them over and over." Lorne said that with a grimace. "Not to step over any lines, but you might want to tell the SGC to hire us a few more counselors for when some of us do go back. Kate Heightmeyer is still with us, but I wouldn’t call her 'with us'. Sir."

John nodded, knowing what he wasn’t saying. "Look, Lorne, you're not alone out here any more okay? I know... I know what sort of counseling might be needed, and I'm sure as hell going to make sure you go home, see the people who care about you. You tell your family you've been fighting a rough war and you want to see them and not think about that. If you've got the choice, then if you don't take it, I'll drag you there myself." 

He had gestured with his arm by accident and had to stop himself hissing through his teeth with pain.

Lorne grimaced along with him. "All right. We get through this and you can do that. I've maybe gone the least native out of most people out here. There's gunna be a lot of adjusting problems. A lot of... and I know it's dumb to bring this up now, but I'd like to imagine that we're going to win this fight and I can't exactly drag you out of here without Carson trying to kill me."

"Carson wouldn't do that. He keeps telling me that you pretty much run the place," John said, hoping they could get back some sense of belonging.

"That's bullshit. Before you were shot, did you run Atlantis, or did Radek or Biro?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it running as such," John said "But I guess I was in command. Though Radek often shouts at me randomly. In Czech."

“Yeah, the scientists are a shouting lot. Don’t let them you roughshod over you, sir.” Lorne’s smile was a funny, shifting thing, but it mostly ran towards placating, calming. Reassuring, like he spent too much of his time doing it.

"Look, Lorne, I know you've seen things, dealt with stuff no one should have to deal with. Had to be the one worrying ‘bout keeping them safe," John said in a low voice. "We are going to make this okay? Gonna kick ass and make it through this alive."

Lorne would at least. He wasn't so sure about himself based on his recent track record.

"So'll you. You watch, I bet Doctor Beckett will have you up in time for the next big fight." If Rodney's time calculations were right, he would. "I just wanted you to know that if you give a command, sir, I'll do it."

"What, even things like bring me some coffee?" John replied trying a smile. "Lorne, just relax, I'm... not really a command type of guy. You know the deal with the Wraith better than I do, I'm going to be trusting your judgment on that one."

"Hey, if we had coffee I'd... Wait, you guys brought coffee, didn't you? It's back in Atlantis? Do you know how long I've been living off of tea and tuttleroot soup? Tuttleroot isn't even *edible*." And while it dodged the command chain deference, John got an idea that hey, he could give coffee out to them like a reward system.

"Tell you what, I might just need someone to go back and liaise with Atlantis for a few things," John said. "And if that liaising happens to include bringing back a coffee canister or two and a box of the chocolate bars..." He shrugged with one shoulder and smiled.

"Hell." Lorne laughed, and started to stand. "That'd be quite the morale booster, sir. I'll be back later -- just to see how you are -- and don't feel guilty about that laptop. You worked out the password, you deserve to poke around."

"Rodney's a bit predictable when it comes to prime numbers," John replied sorry to see him go but already feeling tired. How the hell was he going to manage in a battle? He'd already had some pretty strongly worded correspondence from Cam through the gate about over working his ‘Thing’ which would just sound incredibly wrong to... practically everyone if that message had been intercepted.

He was just glad that no-one had _heard_ it or read it, because the mental images that it swirled up on the inside of John's brain were pretty intense. His thing, yeah, his rescue, helping people thing was just about snapped in half.

"Ouch, math." Lorne shook his head, and he left with a brief little wave. Yeah, he'd be back. He was testing the waters and trying to work his way towards getting comfortable with the Earth thing again, but he'd end up going. If he survived.

John returned to the lap top. He amused himself by taking a look around and then writing a very simple Prime, Not Prime game script that would pop up unobtrusively. He had a bit of fun thinking of various phrases he'd heard Rodney use to Zelenka back in the Atlantis Infirmary and slotting them in as well for incorrect responses, and as a finishing touch added an alarming looking five second countdown as a response for answers. Ideally, he would've liked to have sound bytes as well but as he was just messing around, doing something to make Rodney smile, well...

He liked it when Rodney smiled.

That thought probably needed a five second alarm, too, but he couldn’t shake it. He liked Rodney, liked his company. Getting him away from Kolya had been an imperative for _Rodney’s_ safety, even if Rodney hadn’t seen what was ever so slightly off about their interactions. But falling in love with him, first with the idea and the picture and then with the very different man was, well. It was fucked up, John knew. It was fucked up and it could cost him his commission.

So maybe it was just as well Rodney had Carson again because that solved pretty much any reason he might've been telling himself that Rodney needed him, wanted him. Yeah, right, of course he did. 

He didn't care about losing his commission when he was with Rodney. There was something about him that called up that knife edge of nothing left to lose.

Rodney was alive and vibrant, and full of excitement – or anger – for everything he did. He was annoying, too, but he accepted being outright told that he was annoying. He was egotistical, but there was a lot of basis for that ego, un-shattered even with everything that John knew he'd had to have been through.

He was a puzzle that John wanted to work his way into, and he just wasn't going to get that chance.

"Good morning John," Carson said as he came in, still looking tired but with a smile today that lit his eyes. "How are you feeling today?"

Like he really wished he wasn't wondering, one way or another, if Carson had gotten laid. Rodney was pretty... easy with his affections, John supposed. Going back to the Genii homeworld to Kolya, flirting and chatting with John, and now flirting and talking to John and going home to Carson. "My arm's tingling like hell."

"Aye, well that's to be expected," Carson replied even as he reached for his wrist to take a pulse. "I've never seen someone as far along as you were come back from it, so in one way you’re my best success story."

Yeah, John Sheppard, Crucifixion Kid and all round miracle man.

No bizarre way of killing him would take him out, but John had a sneaking suspicion that he'd set foot back on earth and choke on a piece of pizza or something. Something mundane, shockingly mundane. "Hey, I'm glad to be alive."

"As well you should be," Carson agreed. "It’s nasty stuff, that corrosive degenerative, very nasty." He seemed to be concentrating on taking his pulse for a moment. "Your blood pressure is some better. That little dispute with Kolya had it up to alarming levels."

"You call that a dispute? I might have been a little delirious, but I think I remember he had you against a wall, doc." John looked at the press of fingers against his good wrist.

“I'm surprised you remember," Carson replied raising his eyebrows at him a little "Considering you tied yourself up in knots when you collapsed. And that you were still moving when I emptied a lot of sedative into your blood stream."

“Well, someone yelled for help and that woke me up,” John replied trying to sound reasonable. “I guess I just moved automatically.”

"Aye, I'm very glad about that too," Carson replied and fiddled with a couple of the IV's. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but didn't know how to broach the subject. "John... Colonel Sheppard, Dr. Zelenka has told us how you were the one pushing for a rescue mission to Pegasus. Someone needs to be thanking you for that."

"Major Lorne was just here thanking me for it, and Rodney's made a habit of it." And that was when it struck John that he was sitting there, shoulder radiating ache, with Rodney's laptop on his lap. If getting caught out by Lorne had been interesting, this was something else.

"Rodney is... very fond of you," Carson said cautiously. His eyes flickered to the laptop. "I'm almost positive that he won't pursue a violent and bloody revenge for you using his laptop."

"That's good. You never know, though. The SGC taught me that scientists are funny creatures that way." He lifted his chin a little, attention all on Carson, because why was _Carson_ being cautious with him?

The doctor looked even more uncomfortable at the scrutiny and avoided his gaze a little. "They can be. They have certain liberties that are frowned on in the military I believe... not that _that_ means much here. In Pegasus."

Certain liberties that didn't really matter in Pegasus. Maybe it was wrong of John to leap to DADT, which clearly was not a concern for the Pegasus Natives, seeing as Kolya and Rodney had been pretty obvious about what was going on in John's eyes, and ... "Didn't mean much back on Earth, either. I know a few guys who subscribe to the ‘don't ask, don't get caught’ theology."

Carson seemed a little more relieved at him getting to that topic. "The thing is... it’s a wee bit complicated John. I have a history with Rodney, you have a recent history with him and now I know I can't provide him with everything he needs or wants. And maybe neither can you – on your own." He chewed at his lip. "Bloody hell, this is more difficult than I thought. I was thinking that maybe we come to some sort of arrangement."

He was staring.

John _knew_ he was staring, though, which didn't do much to mitigate the reality that he was staring at Doctor Beckett, because had he just said what John thought he'd said? "I, uh. Uh. This isn't the conversation I was expecting to have with you, Doctor. I was expecting the one I already had with Kolya, which was 'touch him and I'll kill you with my bare hands'. Along those lines." 

And not even to mention that they were revving up for the finale battle. Maybe that was why Carson was bringing it up., Maybe he was one of those guys who didn't like to leave personal issues dangling, while John was more than happy to put them off.

"We'll it's remotely possible I could take you, if you were sedated and recovering in an infirmary bed, but even then I'm not sure," Carson replied with a self depreciating smile. "Rodney... Rodney doesn't know I'm talking to you about this, I just thought that with what's ahead of us I can't be selfish and expect him to put aside 3 years worth of experience and demand things from him." He looked a little flustered. "And I saw how you looked at me, okay?"

If only John knew what look he meant. He was pretty sure he'd given Carson a lot of looks, most of them, well. Moping, Cam would call it. "Hey, that's how it's supposed to work out. It's pretty obvious how much Rodney missed you. Just, he's – I'm guessing he's been through more than he's gunna say, and Kolya had him pretty messed up."

"We're all pretty much that way," Carson said again. "What I don't want is you doing something stupid when this battle comes up because it will... uncomplicate things. I can tell you are thinking about it. " His voice was still pitched pretty low and soft and John had to admit there was an attractive quality to it. "I think a lot of people care what you do to yourself, don't try and fool yourself otherwise."

What was he supposed to say to that? ‘No, you're hallucinating,’ except he'd thought it, yeah. It would make things uncomplicated. Leave Rodney with the one choice and he'd be happy. Rodney was a pretty uncomplicated guy about that, no drawn out drama. "I'm the odd man out, right now."

Carson chuckled a moment. "I don't think you will be. John, I don't know what happened to you, but Rodney says you have a strong ATA gene and I know that if you've been to Atlantis, she'll have welcomed you with open arms. More than anyone else left alive, you belong in that city. I know what that feels like."

"Yeah. But a tour of duty like this doesn't last forever." Unless you did it without a ZPM and ended up stranded on an alien planet, in which case, it might _feel_ like forever. "Look, I'm bedridden. What're the chances I'll be not-bedridden by the time the fight comes?"

"Ah, well, once the corrosive is flushed out of your system, and those nerves have settled down, recovery will be rapid," Carson replied. "The wound still has to heal, but you should be mobile in a couple of days."

Just a couple of days. And then it'd be like, well, any ordinary bullet wound, which wasn't what John had been living with for the past days. "Pretty high, then. I can't make any promises about my avoiding fighting. I'm good at it, Rodney'll tell you that."

"Well, I'm not," Carson replied. "I don't know how we can win this unless we can get them into extinction numbers."

And he wasn't sure how that was going to work from the looks of his expression.

“Given that when you all got here, there were slightly over 60 hive ships, and now it's in the low twenties, and it might be lower by the time they get here... That might be possible." John threw out a smile when he said it, too, even if it wasn't something the doctor was probably too comfy with.

"No, it's to do with the queens. I've been analyzing the tissue of the queens, and they have strange things in their DNA that enable them to circumvent the normal DNA laws. Not only do we need to kill as many as possible, we need to stop their reproduction because what might happen is that if we kill a lot of the hives, there is a point where the species is threatened, and most species have some sort of fail safes," Carson said as if he thought John might understand it. "There are species on Earth that spontaneously change sex if the population balance becomes too skewed. I have a sneaking suspicion there is a means of worker wraith females spontaneously developing queen characteristics in the event of catastrophic species event. If we miss one hive, we could end up with more Queens than ever."

"So you're saying we'd have a whole hive of those hard to kill..." John waved one hand slightly. The best way to get them would be to destroy it in space.

"What we can't be sure of is... is which Hives aren't coming to knock on the door," Carson said. "We know they have politics and there's bound a few not joining in. What we need is for one of them to carry something back to the others. Something they are not aware of. At the very least a gene inhibitor to cut that species reflex off..."

"Is that something you can do?" John sat up a little. Somehow, he suspected that it was. Carson was that kind of mad scientist, cut from the same cloth as Rodney.

"Aye, I've been working on something like that for a while now. The problem is, getting it into their ship without them realizing they are exposed," Carson replied. "That's the part I'm not to good at working out."

It meant human sacrifices, which Rodney was good at finding. "Huh. How quickly do you think you could get this into some kind of deseminable form?"

"I've been working on an airborne version," Carson replied. "We just need a distribution method. It will be done in time for the attack."

"Could you get McKay to work it into one of his, uh..." John gestured with his good hand to his chest area. Suicide bombers. Rodney's suicide bombers. Because if people were going to die anyway, most of them wanted to take some wraith with them.

"Maybe..." Carson looked uncomfortable with the idea. "I wish we didn't have to do this at all."

"I know. But it works. We can't just hope that the Daedalus can... magically beam the canisters into their ships. Rodney's not even sure they could get ahead of the jamming technology."

John knew that if the worst came to the worst there was a way of flying the damn things onto the Wraith ships. If they made it appear like a bomb hadn't detonated properly... Yeah it could be done. If someone could fly their way on to a Wraith ship.

"Aye, well I'll see what Rodney and Radek come up with.” Unconsciously, Carson was smiling even as he mentioned the other man's name and really, all those words were going to mean nothing in the long run.

It was a nice sentiment, John decided. At least. "Hey, just... mention it to them, see what they might do. If this is something that can spread between ships..."

"I'll do that." Carson straightened up a little. "I want you to eat all of the food today, and plenty of liquids. Your body needs help to recover. And don't get up and try and intercept any more madmen."

"No getting up, right." John nodded, glanced down at the laptop, then back to Carson. "Don't worry about everything else. We'll work it out when we don't have a hoard of alien ships bearing down on us."

Carson gave him a half smile. "In the mean time, remember that Rodney is very attached to you. And I am very grateful for all you have done as well. I have to go, Ronon and Ford will be coming back shortly. I need to know what they found."

"And I'll be here, doing the recovering thing." Casual, low key, yeah. That ranked as possibly the most surreal conversation John had ever had with a medical staff member.

"Good," Carson said and patted his hand absently even as he wandered off. 

It did raise a few points though. He ought to be thinking about the attack rather than just sitting here. He needed to maybe sneak off to the Chair here, and see if all the capabilities of the Tower were online. If not, he could see if they were on good terms with any of the races that had a possible ZPM on their world, get it online and that might make the difference. They could use a shield. More drones...

And with that, games forgotten John started to draw up strategic battle plans and requirements on Rodney's laptop, just as a mental exercise.

After all, Rodney wouldn't mind.

* * *

He'd imagined that when rescue came, it would mean relief.

At first, that was what he'd imagined. Because there was a difference between being safe and being _safe_ and able to relax and just... stop. Just stop. Sometimes he needed to stop, because it was only when he stopped that he realized how wound tight he was and how long he'd been going without a break. And if Kolya was good at just _one_ thing, it had been at making Rodney _stop_.

Carson's idea of making him stop was to saddle him with a body guard when he was good at the mission on his own, thanks. It was harder to approach people out of the blue in a group, even a group of two. Keeping them calm, too, talking them into it. It was a challenge, one that Ford seemed unable to appreciate that Rodney could _do_.

He knew he had his experiences, but he had a few years of talking people into suicide missions and he knew the buttons to push, the targets to find. It was imperative they winnow out the wraith as much as they could before they reached Trinaria. They would feed on planets to build up their strength and they'd've worked out how to shield from the nukes by now. He'd taken a risk before. Sophisticated shielding would ignore slower moving objects with a low energy yield, recognizing them as being on a par with the darts, but responding to fast moving high energy bolts and blasts. Their crude missiles had slipped in through a loophole, and he doubted that loophole would exist any more.

He'd seen John's workings on his laptop and had been mildly surprised he had worked through to that conclusion. They needed to get the Wraith shields down, otherwise they would be out of luck for the whole thing.

"You sure the Wraith are going to hit here next?" Ford asked as they headed along a rough path. "Those villagers didn't seem too convinced."

"A conclusion which I'm sure they reached because of their, oh, yes, their _substantial_ studies of Wraith movements and feeding patterns. Ford, I know what I'm doing. I've done this for years now, un-assisted." He snapped it, just a little, taking in the scenery in Ancient view. It was easier to stick to that when he was looking for the right kind of person. Looking for the heroic glow or the scarlet twist of vengeance.

"Persuading people to do a Dr. Strangelove..." Ford sounded like he was grinning a little but then according to Carson he usually was. "Ride that missile down their throats."

He was pretty sure that Ford was too young to know that film.

"Look, they're going to die anyway. Most people want to die contributing to a cause more than they want to die as a tasty snack. I know that's not how Carson does things, but that's why..." Rodney waved one hand a little, watching Ford's strange purple-blue tones shift.

"Dr. Beckett pretty much works on trying to _save_ people," Ford replied. He was like the play of colors on dark abalone. Glassy and bright. "Sometime a bit too hard if you get my drift."

"At least that hasn't changed." While Rodney hadn't ever been too cracked up on death, and now he handled it casually. One bomb planted, even if it had taken longer than usual.

"Yeah well, don't listen to that shit about him not being any good at being a leader. He is. He's had to take some hard decisions. He hasn't had a break since all this started," Ford said, still looking around. 

"Hey, we get a respite here after this, and I'll make sure he takes a break. It hasn't been fun for any of us." And he didn't need Ford drilling that into his head. They just needed to get to another village, plant a few more biologicals. Spread it out. The wraith were _more_ than partially decimating the planets they were culling, they were taking halves, more.

"You don't know the half of it," Ford muttered and then abruptly stopped, holding a hand out to halt his progress. "You hear that?"

"Not over your boots." Rodney craned his head, seeking, looking off to either side of the trail. Just like he'd do for Kolya, broadening his field of vision, letting the wider, deeper view slip into sight, letting the visor work for him instead of constraining it to one view for his sanity. 

There was someone out there. A human, from the heat pattern. Off the trail, to the left. " _Move_."

To his credit, Ford actually did move, staying close to cover him. "How many?" he asked hastily, readying his gun.

"Just one." And Rodney turned to start heading for the gate, keeping Ford close because fuck. The views shifted again, and it was like looking into a pit, past the trees, stalking towards them, with the odd brief flicker of flame, or, or, leaves?

“Okay, we're leaving." Ford said sharply. "Go...go..."

The going was cut short by the whir of something Rodney recognized...a Genii bola weapon. Kolya had shown him how it was possible to make one from pretty much anything and if you could use one, you'd stand a chance of surviving anywhere.

Kolya had been a master of it. 

There was a thump, a clack of rock against itself and a thud as Ford went down.

Rodney ducked down instinctively, crouching beside Ford while he got his own gun out and brought it up. “Kolya! Kolya! I know you’re out there!”

"I'm sure you know then, that I could get you at any moment," Kolya replied. And damn, he could move fast now. In ancient view he looked like some strange elemental flickering in the undergrowth. "I want you, Rodney."

And that was why he'd told Carson he didn't need an escort. They were _useless_ , and if something in Pegasus wanted to eat him, he was going to end up eaten. Or captured. "Can we talk about this? I'm preparing to fight off the next invasion.”

"So am I," Kolya replied and even with his advantages, he still couldn't move fast enough to stop Kolya from being there, on him just like that. "Something I have is broken and I need you to fix it Rodney. Just like the old days. Before you turned on me."   
"I haven't turned on you. You've become _unhinged_ ," Rodney bit out and Jesus, he was flat on his back on the path, gun trapped uselessly between his body and Kolya's. "If you'd just stayed in the infirmary -- you're brilliant. The Genii need you."

"But you don't. Tell me, have let him fuck you yet? Or have you dropped your savior in favor of the long lost love?" Kolya murmured, too close to his ear and skin. "Or do you have them both. Or maybe he died after all."

"He's still alive. Look, it..." Too close, whispering right in his ear, and he'd been with Kolya a _long_ time, even if it was all built on tenuousness and lies and misperceptions. "It's not really anything for you to concern yourself with."

"You were mine," he murmured. "And... him, yes, I would've taken him as an allocated. You and him together..." Kolya's voice sounded composed and cruel, as if all his bad points had been magnified. "I would've enjoyed breaking him."

"That's not who you are, Acastus. That's not how you did things." He was calm, and hard, yes, but he wasn't _that_ , he wasn't. He wasn't the creature that the wraith had made him. The damage, whatever it looked like to normal eyes, had subsumed his personality.

"Isn't it?" And the way he said it made him wonder. "Get up. You and I have somewhere to go."

When Kolya moved to get off of him, Rodney started to get up. Hands in the dirt, getting up quickly, like they'd just had some bizarre fight. Fights with Kolya usually degraded to wrestling and laughing, and not that intensity that Rodney didn't know what to do with. "Fine. But I knew you. This isn't you, it's the, whatever it is that you’ve been taking."

"It's made me stronger. I'm stronger than the Wraith now. Faster, sharper. I'm their fear," Kolya replied, helping him stand even as he pocketed the weapon. "I need to get more enzyme, then there can be more like me. Stronger than the Wraith, an army."

"You're not _you_ anymore." The strong-man statesman that Rodney had lived with for, for years. Comfortably. That he'd taken _care_ of when he was hurt, who'd taken care of him, who'd...

It was making his head hurt.

"Perhaps I am better. Because I have taken down a wraith dart and it is nearly whole." Kolya replied. "And I want you to fix it for me."

"And then you're going to what? It's not a _horse_ , Acastus. You can't just hop in unless you can read wraith now, too." But when Kolya started to walk, Rodney walked with him, It was better to be there of his mostly free will than dragged kicking and screaming.

"I'm sure you can work something out Rodney, I have faith in you," Kolya replied and for a moment he sounded normal. "You want them gone as much as I do."

"I do." He wanted to live in peace and quiet, he wanted to sleep in Atlantis and just explore and learn again, something he hadn't had time for in a long while. He wanted to rest.

"With a Wraith ship I could get into the Hive, I could harvest them, I could plant bombs. I could destroy them before they reached a planet."

He was right he could get onto a hive ship. He was willing to bet there was some sort of auto-docking sequence like there had been for the Puddlejumpers at Atlantis.

Assuming that Kolya could _fly_ in there in the first place. And getting out was tricky, wasn't it?

"It'd be a one way trip, I think. It might trigger alarms once you were in."

"It would be long enough. And I could steal another to get out," Kolya seemed a bit airy about that sort of thing which wasn't good.

But if someone could fly it, a good pilot then maybe, it would be the answer. Delivery system for his virus, maybe even for Carson's as well.

Two for one. Rodney had no idea how he'd get Kolya to play along, but. "Right. Right. So where is it?"

"On this world. Advance scout. You're not the only one that remembers your projections," Kolya said. "And I haven't been able to stray too far from it. But I want you to hurry otherwise I might just have to kill anyone who comes looking for you."

"Check-in is in three hours --- it's going to take me longer than three hours to get this ship working." Rodney cautioned that even as he kept following. Advance scout, yes. It was good to be right sometimes.

"Then you better hope that you can because I'm not letting you go until this is done," Kolya replied.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck... Rodney scanned ahead, looking for signs of it. "Look, we could get it to a safer location. You said it was an advance scout, and we know this planet is next."

"Which is why you need to hurry," Kolya replied as they headed off into the trees. Ford was still unconscious somewhere up on the trail. He just hoped Kolya didn't want to tidy up loose ends. "It is not badly damaged. The Wraith made a semi-controlled landing."

Ford would head back to Atlantis and get help, which probably wouldn't help, but at least hopefully no-one would think he'd defected.

"And you're sure the pilot is dead?"

"Most definitely," Kolya replied, and hey, he was right, it really wasn't far from the gate. Kolya must've been lying in wait near the gate for when the scout came through.

The needle nosed craft had ploughed a bit into the ground, but at least it wasn't smoking or lying in heaps of twisted metal. It looked pretty physically intact, and Rodney couldn't help but pull ahead a little, peering at it. On one hand, he was basically a hostage, but on the other hand, that was _really_ a wraith dart. "Huh. I wish I'd known -- I would have actually brought equipment with me that is _not bombs_."

"What are you trying to say?" Kolya was too close again and menacing. "What do you need?"

"My laptop, for one, so I can interface with it, and possibly a toolkit." He wasn’t going to let Kolya menace him, he was not.

"And you don't have that, correct?" Kolya paced. "Look and see what you need. Then I will send a message back with your unconscious protector. I am officially holding you hostage. Please don't make me get out the knife again."

That felt like being dunked in ice-water, that threat-from-old that Kolya had sworn he'd only done because he was under time-limit orders from Cowan. "I'll, uh. I'll just look at the ship, then."

"You do that." And Kolya stepped back to let him work.

It was disturbing how Kolya could flicker so easily between the man he knew and the man he really never wanted to know. He had known Kolya was hard and focused. He had learned how to become like that as well. But, now he was downright scary. 

He looked over the craft, assessing things. It would work. It might work. If they sent someone to him, who would come? Ronon? He wasn't sure. If they sent someone who could actually fly the dart then, huh, maybe they could steal it from him, or negotiate with Kolya to use it.

Send a pilot, then. A marine. A Lorne or Sheppard or someone who had a chance in hell of sitting behind the controls and handling it. The damage to the ship itself wouldn't be the problem. It would be in routing around the obvious DNA key, but if he could infect the ship, warp it, well.

"We'll need a gene holder to fly it. This ship is probably keyed to wraith DNA -- it's the thing to do in this galaxy -- and while I can trick it to key into the Ancient gene, I can't trick it to key into thin air, and I'm not a pilot."

That did not please Kolya at all. "Then I will be unable to fly this. It will be useless unless I can force someone else to fly it." He grimaced. "There are pilots with the gene. There is Sheppard. Would he be able to fly a Wraith ship? Forget this, he'll just have to be able to do it. Make a list of tools, and we will ask that he is sent here. He doesn't need to be fighting fit to fly."

Except that he _was_ fighting fit or close enough to be faking it really well. "Right. Right. Hey, if we can possibly use this to deliver a payload, too, I – look, you don't need to make me a hostage, you know? Same goal. I'll make the list."

Kolya nodded and it was just possible that they might be able to negotiate with the man. If Rodney was lucky, he might just be lucid enough so that both their plans would work.

* * *

It was typical that the first time he'd actually been allowed to walk any sort of distance at all, it would have to be into a hostage situation. Ford had come in groaning, a lump on his head like an egg and with a note from Rodney and Kolya demanding his presence or he would start gentle persuasion on his hostage.

His arm was still sore, and Carson had bandaged it up tightly to minimize problems but in a fight, he was going to be next to useless. He carried the tools on his other shoulder and stood in the visible spot, putting the gear down and raising his hands. 

"Kolya! I’m here. Show me Rodney!"

John wasn't so surprised when he only saw Kolya, but he was holding Rodney's visor half up in the air. "He's safe, somewhere that he can't wander off and get himself hurt. I see you brought the requested equipment."

"And myself." John replied. And a tracker that would allow the others to trace him, locate them both. "Which is apparently what you wanted."

"I downed a Wraith dart. It needs to be repaired and it needs a pilot." He gestured to John, and turned to lead him away from the meeting spot, hopefully towards the dart.

"A dart huh? Can't say I've ever tried flying one of those," John replied following him. He needed to make a visual on Rodney before he set off any sort of beacon. It had a limited charge. "What were you wanting to do with it?"

"Doctor McKay believes he can make it functioning, and could use it to board a wraith ship to spread both a biological and a computer virus." Kolya had his back to John, but it wasn't a sign of trust. It was just a sign that he knew he had the upper hand.   
That was brilliant actually and would solve the issues they were currently panicking about. Although, minor flaw being the pilot would be stuck there. "One way mission?"

"Why would it be?" Kolya twisted, gave him a _look_ that almost said he expected it to not be.

"Well, the pilot would have a few issues getting out of the place. Flying into a Hive and getting out again... not easy." John drawled a little, still looking for Rodney. If Kolya had hurt him, he was going to tear him apart.

"Have you done this before to know?" Kolya asked it archly and... okay, no, he hadn't. But it seemed pretty obvious that they wouldn't just leave the doors wide open both ways for anyone who wanted to waltz in. 

Up ahead, he could see the form of a dart, nose half-buried in the dirt.

"McKay?" he called out, reasoning Rodney had to be around there somewhere. Carson had made him swear to get him back alive. "Look, Kolya is all this really necessary. We are going to want to use this to not just down one hive but to take out all the Wraith.

"Doctor McKay understands that sometimes drastic measures must be taken. I do not think your people grasp that." Kolya kept on towards the dart, and John heard a muffled noise from within it. "He is in here."

"For god’s sake, let him out... you've gotta know he gets a bit claustrophobic," John said which he hadn't known but Carson had reeled off as he saw him off. "What I'm saying is that we're not on opposite sides here. We can just work this through." 

"So I had thought. But it seems as if even those closest to me were willing to betray me." Which was Rodney, right, and Jadon, Gisera ,Sora and Tyrus, if Rodney's quiet talks to John were a hint. 

"He is actually very claustrophobic." Kolya pushed on the canopy, and it rolled itself the rest of the way back.

"Jesus, it smells like something died in here, what the hell were you _thinking_?!"

"Something did die in there – be grateful it wasn’t you." Kolya said mildly. "Good news Rodney, they decided you were worth risking Colonel Sheppard for." He passed over the visor.

"Hey Rodney, doing okay there?"

"Yeah, just, kind of against dark enclosed spaces after the deprivation tank." Rodney reacted when the visor bumped his fingers, reached for it and brought it up to his eyes. "I liked you better when you were _sane_ and controlling, Acastus. Have we got tools?"

"We have tools. Your Colonel Sheppard seems to be expressing some degree of hesitation about this mission," Kolya said.

“Well, you know, I've got this long list of people who will be very unhappy with me if I take on a suicide mission," John replied. "Personally I'm fine with it."

"Not going to be a suicide mission. It'll take more than one person to pull it off anyway," Rodney declared, sitting up straighter and moving to get partially out of the cockpit. "Hand me my laptop, I need to interface with this first."

He handed it over, taking a look at the internal working of the cockpit. "It's all in Wraith... how the hell am I going to read any of the instruments?" John asked forgetting the fact they were technically hostages here.

"Well, I could -- oh, that's right. I'm a genius. How about you let me figure that out with just ten minutes of silence? I'll call if I need anything." There was a brief gesture, and it seemed like Rodney was frustrated. John usually gave him a few minutes of space when he got like that.

"Okay, okay..." John backed off, but tossed him a couple of his favorite power bars as fuel for thought before stepping away and finding himself way too close to Kolya. "He needs his space."

"I know." Kolya seemed quietly amused, but there was still that edginess. There was also the fact that the muscles of his face were twisted, and his eye was glassy, shooter-marble black.

Maybe there was some protocol for dealing with someone who was more than a little insane, but if there was no one had ever bothered to tell him. "So, uh, how about we negotiate this or something," John suggested awkwardly. "The hostage things seems to be a bit... redundant."

"And yet I do not find it so redundant." Kolya looked towards Rodney, who was hunched over his laptop in the cockpit, leaning forwards to attach it to something or other. There was a brief spark, and he swore before leaning back to his work again. "He was with me for over three years. If he were to take the wraith enzyme, he would come back to me. Stronger, better than he is now."

John looked at the man. "That's _not_ going to happen," he said in a low voice. "He has Dr. Beckett again, who I am pretty sure you did nothing to dispel the idea that he was dead."

There was an amused touch over his mouth, a dancing motion of the man's lips before they twisted up into a smile. "Half the pleasure of having him was making him submit. I'm sure you know how that is. What you can do to make the complaining stop and the begging begin."

No he didn't know and okay... there were some parts of that which sounded remotely attractive although he wasn't really that worried about making someone submit because it was generally just better to go with whatever happened. Not that he was going to get to know. It had been easy enough to not make a big deal of what Carson had said because they were all busy and he'd been in the Infirmary and Rodney and Carson had been together.

"I know you think a lot of things, but the truth is, no I wouldn't know," John replied. "But that doesn't change the fact that he's not yours to play with."

"I could break him again. I could break you, Colonel. Perhaps when the wraith are dead, we'll see how you'd look in bed beside him." It was so calmly suggested, more mellow and at ease with the idea than most people discussed what they were having for dinner.

"You try anything like that and I _will_ kill you," John replied, feeling that dangerous feeling of intensity settle over him as if a switch had been flicked inside of him. "Others have tried. And I will make sure you won't have a hold of anyone, let alone Rodney or myself, understand?"

He knew he'd been right about that strange first encounter with the man. He'd been willing to compromise then, but he was damned if he'd let the man treat him like some sort of sex slave.

"I look forward to the challenge." Kolya shifted, and he didn't seem angry. Just, just stubborn, and there was some of the feeling of the stubborn man who'd first bargained with him. "I can see it in Rodney's eyes, though. He wants someone to treat him like that again. He barely protested until I put him in the canopy."

"This might have something to do with not wanting to upset the potential crazy guy," John pointed out ,abandoning tact for a moment. "You see what you want to see. And I can tell you he's not yours. He's not mine, he's his own okay? Just leave it at that. "

He was finding the whole conversation very disturbing if only for the fact he was now having thoughts of someone watching him and Rodney in bed.

"Because I have allowed it. When I had the time for it as commander, Doctor McKay was meek and yielding. He could be made to be such again." And it was starting to piss him off, but maybe that was Kolya's whole point. To piss John off.

"Meek and yielding isn't who he is," John said. "Look, we're getting away from the point here...We all want the Wraith out of the picture. So lets get this dart through the gate back to the Tower and get out of the way of the next culling. Then we'll have time to work out how this is going to work."

"I will not be excluded from this mission." And there, finally, was the point.

John looked at him a moment. "Well hey, if you want to be part of people who are going to get me the hell out of there then sure...but the idea is to get this in without them realizing. And we can't set off a nuke because that would ruin what we've done. What were you wanting to do?"

"Harvest more of the enzyme."

Probably a whole life-time's stash worth, like a paranoid meth head stocking up for y2k. And what was John supposed to say to that?

Maybe it would provide a cover for what he was doing. If they thought that it was a crazy guy making a raid, they wouldn't be hunting for viruses or getting themselves tested. Even so, they were going to have to cut it close to the attack so they wouldn't have time to defend.

"Yeah, right okay, maybe we can work something," John said thinking. "I could dematerialize you and beam you out when we're up there. You could go do... what you do... and we'll get someone to pick us up."

"Why do you think you would be unable to fly the ship out?" Kolya crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Rodney kept working, apparently oblivious to their conversation.

"Look, I'm pretty sure they have an autopilot that will snag the ship when we get close. And I'm also pretty sure that they will control docking release as well. That many darts flying around, there has to be some sort of authorization sequence for them to get out of there," John tried to explain although if they were mid attack, maybe there would be a release override. But he didn’t want to be doing this in the _middle_ of an attack. "Besides, the fact there is a human in there when it pops open? A bit of a giveaway."

"If the shield were disabled, would one of your Gateships be able to enter?" Maybe. John was thinking more like a 302, but those were two-seaters.

"Probably would under cloak," he admitted. "But we're not likely to get the puddlejumper to uplink to the Wraith Hive mainframe – which, incidentally, it'll do when it picks it up in autopilot," he said and gave a wry half twist of a smile. "Saw that in a movie once."

"Then how will we disembark from the ship?"

"We'll I'm hoping that even if it takes the steering it will leave the beam-out control intact, because on the whole, Wraith would have to offload their culled cargo before putting the dart into park," John said. He had thought about it for quite a while. He'd known they would be going up there one way or another.

"I mean, from the main Hive." Kolya glanced towards the ship. "Doctor McKay is not fond of suicide missions."

"I wasn't intending on taking him," John replied. He on the other hand was obviously pretty good at them. Or bad if you took the fact he was still alive. "Potentially, we could arrange a puddlejumper pick up. If we can find a volunteer crazy enough to fly in."

"I find it amusing that you claim to place value on your specialists, but demean them by doubting their capabilities. Rodney has worked with my strike force for years. It is the type of mission that he is very capable of." The same strike force that took control of Atlantis and stranded everyone out of it for years, yeah.

"He's... irreplaceable," John said after a moment of searching for the right word. Rodney was not expendable. It was nothing to do with capability. "It's not to do with anyone's ability; it's to do with the fact that at the end of the day it's a high risk mission so you don't risk those who shouldn't be risked."

Maybe the Genii didn't work that way.

Kolya didn't have an answer for that. He looked towards the Dart again, and finally asked, "How will we get it to the gate?"

"We'll fly it. I'll fly it," John said really hoping he could. "We don't have time to load it onto anything and drag it. It all relies on Rodney." He was beginning to realize that happened a lot.

Everything relied on Rodney. Probably most of Kolya's long term plans, hell, his planet's defensive capabilities had relied on Rodney. So it only made sense that he should have some respite, that he wouldn't have to see everything through to the end mostly on his own.

"He said it would take more than three hours to repair the ship."

"Maybe it won't with the tools, or if we offer to help," John said cautiously. Kolya was sounding pretty normal right now. It was only when he saw that twisted eye that he remembered who he was dealing with.

Whatever the wraith had done to Kolya, it wasn't like the man had been a really nice guy to start with. He'd set off John's warning bells from the beginning, and if they were going to work together it was going to be out of necessity, not enjoyment.

It was a shame he couldn't get back to the Tower and get Kolya shot or something.

* * *

He’d never been happier to be back in the Tower, and not Atlantis, in his life.

Three hours of brain-wracking work to get the Dart working again had gotten them a short ride home, and had earned Rodney a nap. He deserved that nap, just a little time to pass out and recoup brain cells that were no doubt committing suicide by that point. Someone from the second mission had brought coffee to the Tower, and Rodney had alternated that with pieces of Athosian grain-bread and tava paste ‘coffee’ to wake himself back up, to get himself back to a state where he could function again for hours without stopping.

Chance would be a fine thing. Right now he was preparing to coordinate the nukes again, but he knew what was going on there, so really he was wondering when they were going to send the dart in, and how they were going to do it.

Time was ticking away, and it would take a while to get close and really, the virus was going to need time to spread and there wasn’t much of that left.

So he left the 'lab' that he and Zelenka and, god help them, Simpson and a few others but *not* Kavanagh, had set up in, looking for Carson or John to work out just what was or wasn't going on in terms of them all not dying.

He'd become used to not having to look for John – every time he turned around he could see his vibrant intense energy literally casting everyone into shadow around him. He was unmissable. Which was why Rodney started to get a little anxious when after ten minutes he couldn't see him. 

He did however see the dusk-dawn colors of Carson and that intense light that was like a small internal sun in his centre. It was hard to not gravitate to that light, the comforting texture of it. Carson and John were the opposite of how Kolya looked nowadays, and he was just as easy to pick out in a crowd, the vacuum of light to John’s incandescent glow. But at least Kolya was sleeping outside the Tower, with the Genii.

Ladon probably wished he _were_ dead.

”Carson, hey.” Rodney sidled up to him, in the control room.

Even though he was obviously busy Carson turned and his worried expression immediately smoothed into a smile. "Rodney... sleep well?"

"Yeah. Feeling a little more human. Radek and I are in a holding pattern right now -- we can keep tweaking forever, but..." Rodney rolled his shoulders, watching Carson's colors. "I wanted to know what was happening with the dart?"

There was a flush of that grey yellow of anxiety that drifted over Carson's deeper colors. "Rodney, the dart has already gone," he said after a moments pause.

"The dart is already gone." Rodney repeated that, staring back at Carson. The dart wasn't supposed to be gone. Whatever pilot they dragged into doing it was supposed to have gotten detailed instructions from Rodney and Carson about what to do, and apparently that part of things had gone missing. "Who's flying it?"

Carson looked away a moment. "John is. John is flying it," he said finally and there in his colors was the thorny choking shadows of guilt creeping out of everywhere. "We had no choice Rodney."

"There was no choice? How many other gene carriers have you got that can just _push_ a god-damned button and follow orders?! It's not a hard mission! In, lay the bombs, out, back home, possibly leaving Kolya there, I don't care, but in and out and that's it – John doesn't need to be doing that!" What the hell was he thinking? He had to know it was a bad idea because there, right there, was the guilt!

"We don't have anyone else with enough flight experience. John used to fly all the time, part of his job. A dart is not like a puddle-jumper and there are no other gene-holders with his flight experience. We discussed this.” Carson sounded a little shaky. "There really was no other choice."

But there was. There were a hundred other choices, maybe more, and all of them involved not sending John on a probably one way trip with a man who wanted him _dead_. "At least tell me that Kolya isn't part of it."

The hesitation told him all he didn't want to hear. "Rodney, I had to agree that it would provide a plausible cover for what John would be doing. And frankly, John wanted Kolya as far away from you as possible. Kolya said some very... unnerving things about what he wanted to do to you to John – enough that we both agreed that he might pose a threat to you."

"Then you just shoot him! Ladon and Tyrus won't mind!" He snarled it and Rodney was past caring who overheard because none of it mattered because John was flying a god-damned wraith dart into the maw of a Hive with a _crazy_ man materialized into the belly of his ship.

"Rodney... Rodney, calm down. This is something that has to be done, I don't like it any more than you do but I can see the necessity and John was adamant." Carson said. "I had to make a quick decision."

"You should have said _no_!" He should have said no, and Rodney couldn't, couldn't quite stand there and argue it forever. Fine. Fine, fuck it. He'd go work on the nukes again and people could keep not communicating with him to their god-damned hearts content.

"How could I say no when everyone’s survival depends on it?" Carson replied sounding a little hurt. "It kills me every time I have to make this sort of decision. Do you think I enjoy it? That I like feeling that every death that occurs in the next 24 hours is as a result of what I have said or done? He said you wouldn't understand."

Guilt. Fantastic, that was a trip Carson was good at taking himself on, and Rodney wanted to reach out and throttle him. "Not surprisingly, I _don't_ understand the need that the both of you have for these pathological messiah complex guilt trips! Everyone who dies? Dies because of the god-damned _space vampires_ that are bearing down on us right now. Space vampires with _lasers_ , not you picking the just, the _wrong_ pilot for this damned mission! He'll get it done and they won't have shields, and we'll survive but he's probably not coming _back_ , and _that_ is why the two of you shouldn't collude on anything more important than ordering a pizza!"

He stormed away, too angry to note anything more than a sudden dark crack across Carson's colors, which frankly he didn't give a damn about because John had arranged to get himself killed when it could've been, should've been someone else there. And maybe Rodney didn't know why that made him angry, but he wanted to have a chance to find out. 

And now that was never going to happen

* * *

To Acastus, it seemed like one moment he was standing on the grass outside the tower, and the next he was in the dim interior of the lair of his enemies. He didn't know how Sheppard had gotten them there, how carefully he'd had to fly, the risks he'd had to take and frankly he didn’t much care. All that mattered was that he could smell the deep musk of the enzyme he needed practically saturating the air and it was all he could do not to set on the nearest wraith and slice open that sac and suck the strength from them.

But he was in control of himself. He could master those impulses and he wasn't crazy. This was the plan that would work. Enzyme for him, and a race of super soldiers. And if this plan succeeded, he would hunt and capture Wraith and create his own captive hive. What then would stop him?

The dart was docking in even as he watched. Sheppard had been right about that.

He lingered, watching. Sheppard had all of the important 'duties', the two viruses, and he wasn't sure why the Lanteans had allowed him to come along. He was nothing but a distraction, someone who would run wild and do what he willed.

Perhaps they wanted him to get killed. Well, they knew little of whom or what he had become. The temptation to reach out and take what he wanted because he had the power to do so was immense. He wanted Rodney again and now Sheppard with such intensity that the sensory filled daydreams were like vivid memory snippets intruding on his thoughts.

He wanted to _indulge_ himself as duty had not permitted him to do so with Rodney. Those foolish feelings of affection and caring he had experienced had to be nothing but familiarity, nothing but habit talking. 

He waited until Sheppard slipped from the Wraith dart, noting that he still favored his right arm, and moved to join him.

"I will accompany you while you distribute the virus,” he said in a low voice. And when it was done, then he would reach out and empty just some of the enzyme into his mouth, just a taste. Enough that perhaps he could overpower Sheppard when they returned to the Tower, and take what he wanted. Deserved to have.

"If we can get out of here without being caught that would be great," John replied in a low voice as well. He was looking at one of the ancestors devices that worked for him. "This way..."

They were moving in the dim light, deeper into the hive in an instinctive military formation.

"I have a very strong will to live. We will be leaving this Hive." Kolya kept his voice to a whisper, searching for signs of activity. He could fight back, that was why he was there. He was faster and smarter than the wraith, strong enough to kill them in ones or twos.

It pleased him to be the predator. Already there were legends drifting from world to world and he would make himself a legend of death to the Wraith as well before he was done.

They made the first drop point in good time. Sheppard hoisted himself awkwardly to pop the small canister into the air vents, but he didn't ask for help. He got the impression he made Sheppard nervous.

Good.

Sheppard was fucking his property. He'd broken and reshaped Rodney, not Sheppard and _none_ of them realized that the Rodney McKay who stood before them was the creation of Acastus Kolya. He'd blinded him and healed him, shaped his tastes, trained him from a complaining, shock-scared scientist to a brilliant, hard edged scientist who could fight back, would fight back and knew how to do it properly. 

Even Rodney didn't realize how much he had been changed in the name of the Genii. 

It was something he took quiet pride in knowing. Intelligent men were more adaptable and would find a way to survive. He counted himself as adaptable.

Sheppard was holding back. "Wraith... headed this way..." He could see the moving dots on the ancestors scanner. There were a lot of Wraith in their vicinity. He wanted to attack but they had two more canisters to drop.

"Then _move_ ," Kolya hissed. He had one of Rodney's guns, and a large knife, and between the two types of weapon, he could be able to do much to fight them back if they did not simply pass by.

"There's nowhere to move to!" John replied back in a low voice. "Coming in all directions!"

Of course they were. They were bound to sense something. They could taste thought.

Something that was not of their hive. Kolya looked over at John's screen. There were two in one direction, and no reinforcements. "That way. I'll go first, stick close behind me."

"We need to get to the second drop off. We should hole up until they pass," John replied nevertheless falling in behind him. He had to see the sense in the decision.

"Then you can go through six wraiths instead of..." Kolya lifted the gun, and sighted on the first figure as it turned the corner towards them. One shot, aimed at the right moment, and he knew no Wraith could survive a head wound like that.

"Are you trying to get us killed?" John hissed, but it was too late. They had been spotted , or at least Kolya was sure that they had. He took that Wraith down, smooth and easy, and then the second and then he was running towards them, knife ready.

"Kolya... fuck!" John was behind him even as he reached to taste the bitter musk of the enzyme. He sliced the sac under the arm and dipped his fingers in, licking it clean with relish.

"We will be able to make it! If you would just partake, we would be done faster!" But he took another heavy dip of the enzyme, feeling it run into his body like liquid power and immortality.

Now he felt invincible. But he wasn't reckless, no. He knew how to take and store the enzyme in a swift movement. He'd even learned how to take it from a living Wraith mid battle.

And alarm was sounding and that meant more Wraith. Sheppard was already running towards the second drop point, not waiting for him to finish.

He took it, hurried and then raced towards Sheppard to keep the wraith off of him. They'd get to the last drop point, and then home, and he would have enough enzyme to be of use in the next battle. It was as simple as that.

He'd completed the second drop point before the Wraith converged and then it was close quarter fighting and he reveled in the strength he had to meet the Wraith blow for blow. To not drop when they fired on him. To crush a throat with a squeeze of a hand. 

To move faster, faster, blade like light, cutting into pale skin. Finding the weak spots, carving an impossible way through until Sheppard was running ahead of him down the last corridor, literally running and jumping at the last vent before they were seen and then he started to really fight back.

They needed to get back to the ship and he would provide Sheppard that cover, he would kill and fight and protect, and he would and did gather those sweet sacs of enzyme, snatching them quick, sliding them into an oiled ammo pouch that would not leak and waste. All would be a success of lightning blade and decimating gunfire.

And this was all well and good up to the point it seemed that the entire Hive converged upon them. Sheppard took a couple of hits from a Wraith stunner and had gone down. He could go after him, or...leave him.

Decisions, decisions.

If he left him, he did not get off the ship, and he could not, not yet, take on all the wraith in such a hive. But it felt like that was what he was already doing, struggling through the shots and the wraith who were converging on them, fighting to get to Sheppard to retrieve him before he was fed upon. He could not pilot them back. He wanted to go back, and he need to hold that thought firm in his head.

They were taking him away rather than feeding there and then, and he had to change tactic. Move, distract, come back for him. Yes. He could find him, in a cocoon or in a cell. He could vanish into shadow, and then get him back so they could leave.

It was easier to do it that way, to turn his back and note the hallway Sheppard was being taken down, turning down another one to escape himself.

He'd find him. Somewhere on this Hive ship he'd find a way to find him. They just had to be sure they didn't interrogate him first, because then the whole plan would be lost.

As he disappeared away from his pursuers, Acastus gave a little smile to himself.

He had an answer to that as well.

* * *

Yeah. The definition of 'not according to plan' involved Acastus Kolya. He was pretty fucking sure that if he looked 'unbelievably prone to ruining plans' in a dictionary, he'd see Kolya's smug-ass face plastered onto the page for a definition.

Now he was going to get blown up with the ship, even if he didn't end up culled. John wasn't about to call the cell he was closed into luxurious, but he'd been in worse. Still, it was going to be a hell of a way to die.

Blown by Rodney, and not in the fun way.

They had been doing fine – quiet, under control and then Kolya just open fired at a couple of Wraith who would've walked right past them both.

John paced a little before sitting. He had no idea how long he'd been out, but he'd woken up tingling with pins and needles all over and no one around. Were they within striking distance of Trinaria?

Was he going to be snacked on, or interrogated. Not that the two were mutually exclusive of course, not with the Wraith. And what the hell had happened to Kolya?

He was probably dead. For a supposedly brilliant general, that had been a really insanely stupid move. Of course, he was a drug addict now. Enzyme addict. And Rodney had still managed to be vaguely supportive of him, but even he said that Kolya was unbearably unhinged.

He should have left him on Trinaria.

But he hadn't liked the thought of him there with Rodney and everyone distracted and the guy spent way too much time not just undressing people with his eyes, but tying them to the bed and fucking them senseless with them as well. While he didn't have anything against that in principle, it was better for the eye-fucking to be a little more consensual.

He poked at the weird organic membrane over the door. There was some sort of force field mixed in with it. Sort of a mixture of organic and cybernetic. If he looked hard enough maybe he'd find a control point.

It couldn't just magically lock and unlock, could it? Except Rodney had been muttering about genetic keys, and how Hitler would have had a field day with the Wraith and the Ancients, because with pure bloodlines you apparently got space vampires and crazy people, great work there, and... and something. He could almost _hear_ Rodney saying that in his head, which wasn't a good sign.

Oh and right on time here came some of those crazy space vampires now. How could his day possibly improve? The only consolation was the fact most of the wraith on board would now be infected. If they could just not realize that they were... 

The wraith pressed something and the door vanished. Neat trick.

Neat trick, and completely useless for John because he was pretty sure that the magical wall button wasn't going to work for him. As it was, the wraith wasn't even trying to talk to him. He just glanced at John as if noting him, and vaguely gestured something to the bigger wraiths that didn't have eyes.

They closed in and roughly shoved him to move forward and he guessed it was time to find out what they wanted from him. Carson had told him the Wraith had telepathy, and he tried to selectively put the images of the mission to the back and leave something plausible like Kolya and the kidnapping to the front. He'd try and give that up first if he could.

They couldn't be too far from Trinaria, so all he had to do was wait just a little more.

Down the corridors and into... oh yes, into a large comparatively ostentatious dimly lit chamber. And a delightful psycho looking queen Wraith.

John decided that this wasn't going to end well. Nothing that started in the throne room of an alien ship could ever go well. It was a lesson he'd learned with the SGC, and he was pretty sure it held true across all alien species excepting the Asgard. They didn't have _throne_ rooms, though, so maybe that was what excluded them.

It was a shame he'd never be able to report back more data on the throne room = evil theory.

"Human..."

"So people tell me," John replied even as his guards half abandoned him and the Queen stepped forward. Which either meant he was probably being terminally disrespectful – in which case she could stand in line behind the string of commanders he'd served under to chew him out, or they were pretty sure that she could take care of herself.

Maybe he could stir up some tension. There were Wraith worshippers and Carson had told him about Wraith politics, about a Hive that had tried to steal from them to defeat another. He could try and cast doubts over some of the allies. 

Something. Anything that would buy time, so he concentrated on things that weren't the hive, that were Kolya and Rodney and life in general and stupid stupid Genii politics and hey, they were half dead. Look how that'd worked out for them once.

"How did you get onto our ship?"

He shrugged a little. "Hitchhiked," he said. "You know how it is, you’re just heading along in the same direction... "

She probably knew, or would know but he didn't want to get in the habit of being particularly useful to her. He was trying to think of ways of avoiding what happened to Sumner. He was all too aware that Kolya would shoot him even before an interrogation just because he wanted to get him out of the way.

Because in Kolya's twisted brains, he'd probably kill John and get to go home and grab Rodney on the way and life would be back to normal, except for the part where he was insane.

And the part where John could feel a force pushing into his brain, and then the voice that spoke echoing in his head, "How did you come here?"

He could feel his mind flinching as it had never resisted the contact of Ancient technology. This was like something trying to grip and tear in his head and bypass his conscious control. Maybe he couldn't stop all of it, but he could divert it a little. 

"I had... help," he gritted out. He tried to recall glimpses of Wraith he had encountered hoping it would seem like he was trying not to remember exactly who was there.

He made the images bubble up, tried to shove them to the front of his mind as the probing stretched deeper, reached harder into his mind and fuck, that was a physical pain. Wraiths, he kept thinking of wraiths. "Who? Where did you come from?"

The problem was that the brain just flicked up things even though he ruthlessly quashed it. Not quick enough to stop there being a ghost of an image of Kolya under there and he let the images associated with him leak out. Genii homeworld culling. Running. Kolya. Flying...

He grimaced and pushed back hard as he could.

"Ah, one of the humans who fought back. You will taste delicious..." She hissed at him, voice rising in his head. "We did not feed on enough of you."

"Yeah well, I shouldn't rush it..." John managed to reply. "You look like you could use going on a diet... "  
Like needles in his head, goddammit. "Not enough food to go around huh... thought so..."

He made his voice knowing and did his best to block his true words.

It was hard to avoid the reach, the probing, and then the queen finally withdrew her fingers with a hissing noise. "You... you will taste delicious when you give in. Your thoughts are scattered, lies. How did you come to be in our hive?"

"Well, thought I'd drop in as I was passing," John replied, wanting to back away. "Be neighborly..." A sudden sharp probe took the image of him looking down at Wraith controls and flying, ripping it away from him.

"Ow! Fuckit!"

"You used one of our ships!" There was a sudden sharp hissing in his head, strained anger that he could feel like audio feedback in a small room.

"Well it's not like one of you didn't give it to me!" he retorted and then put up every block he could think of and started the math calculations he had used to calm him from losing control of his thoughts before.

Maybe the lack of information was better than anything, because the angry queen pressed a hand against his chest and gave him an angry backwards shove. "Useless! Take him back to his cell! Let hunger wear him down!"

Well, he knew he could wait a helluva a lot longer than they thought. He had experience in starving and being a captive so he was just going to see this as a minor victory despite the fine detail of actually still being a prisoner on a ship that might or might not get blown up. Even as he was stopped from falling by the guards, he smirked back at the Queen just to annoy her and then wondered if the stabbing pains in his head would let him make some daring escape. Assuming he could shake off the two faceless thugs. They were efficient in scraping him off the ground, quick to drag him to his feet whether he wanted to be there or not. Maybe once they were out of sight he could try something daring.

Or on the other hand, as he discovered when they were out of sight and he did try something probably more stupid than daring, he could have the crap kicked out of him and be thrown back in the cell as if he were of no more annoyance than a fly. A concussed fly.

John picked himself up carefully, desperate to work out if they were anywhere near the battle or not. He nearly flinched back as a shadow appeared at the door.

”Colonel Sheppard. I am glad to see you are not a dried out husk. That would’ve been very… annoying.”

Kolya. Surprisingly not dead and examining the door, and door mechanism.

"You think you can get them open?" John hesitated and then stood well back. Kolya was bound to have some of the anti-wraith bullets and he really hoped he didn't use them. There was a smear of something sticky on the other man's face and he realized it was probably enzyme. 

Great, not only a crazy madman, but a _high_ crazy madman to the rescue. He was tempted to stay in the cell.

"If you stand back from the door, yes." Kolya crouched down in front of the door, and he seemed to be placing something on the ground against the door. He glanced over his shoulder quickly, and then there was a spark, a hand held lighter pack, and Kolya rose quickly and disappeared off to one side.

Just in time John backed away enough, wondering why the hell Kolya was doing this. It would benefit him to leave him behind. He crouched into as protected a posture as possible and then there was a sickening thud as if someone had thrown themselves on a grenade and then the splatter of organic and metal fused component splashed over him.

"Jesus..." He wiped himself off a little. "How long has it been? We near Trinaria yet?"

"We should be. I suggest we leave now." Kolya twisted towards him, and it was just like he'd picked up body guard duty again, nothing wrong at all.

"Right..." John grimaced, and followed him out. The biological virus would be dispersed and the shield virus would be spreading through any ship to ship contact. “Too much to ask if you know your way to where the dart is?" he asked as they set off down the corridor. He'd have to take off and beam Kolya in, assuming they could get to the hanger in the first place.

It would probably be swarming with Wraith. Hell, someone had probably flown his dart off, and then what would he do? Steal another one, John guessed. He at least knew what to push, roughly.

"I do. The hanger is this way."

"Well... thanks..." He was a little surprised at that and startled at a strange blaring noise that started up. “You know, I think that alarm might have something to do with us." He picked up his pace and started jogging. "Got a weapon I can borrow?"

Kolya had to have a spare something. His anti-wraith gun was still strapped across his chest, hung like a P-90, and John was sure he'd seen a belt knife. Knives weren't something he was good at, but not dying was better.

Kolya grunted an affirmative, shifting to slide the gun off of its 'oops, dropped it' line, so he could shove it into John's hands. "Don't miss."

"I tend not to," he said and it was just... creepy and weird. Even the Wraith seemed less creepy right now that the man with him, which was just as well because hey, there were a hell of a lot of them just rounding a corner ahead of them.

He opened fire before he really thought about it. And he didn't want to get in the way of the anti-wraith bullets again because that had been unbelievably unpleasant and okay, he admitted it, he really had thought he was going to die.

*Had* thought it, past tense, because now it felt like he had a chance in hell and it was a rush that John hadn’t felt in too long. Kolya let him lead, and John hoped he was going to watch his back while John mowed down, shot down, the Wraith. It was so smooth, one shot for each, and Kolya moving beside him, shoving a crude clip at John from his belt. The whole weapon felt like Rodney had sort of half remembered how a P-90 worked, and had done what he could to mimic it, except it wasn’t quite right in any way.

But it did the job.

It meant they could jump over bodies, move towards the hanger and John was starting to think, hey, might just make it... only he had a suspicion when he got out there both sides would be trying to shoot him down. He reloaded and carried on running and fighting what seemed like endlessly until they reached the hanger.

"You ought to fall back while I get one of these things. I can beam you in, and we can try not to get blown up, " he said as they jogged together.

"Give me the gun back and I will keep it clear for you to get to the ship," Kolya countered. "Just run as fast as you can to it and do not worry."

"You'll have to get out there in the open when I'm in," John said checking his gun. "Just watch for a sign of some sort." He could blow something up maybe.

"I'll watch for a sign," Kolya confirmed, but there was an edge to his voice that made John uneasy. And fuck it, they were already too short on time to be concerned about things like that. John had to go, and Kolya seemed like he was going to hold to it.

If Kolya was going to honor his side of things, then he'd not break his promise, even if it meant danger. Kolya ran out into the Hanger bay, firing randomly at startled looking Wraith who were launching in swathes of the sharp needle nosed fighters. John went to where his dart had been and was lucky because they obviously hadn't worked out what they had done to it yet so it was still intact. Two dead wraith later and then yeah, he was in the cockpit, the canopy closing down, locking tight and kinda skipping the pre-flight check. 

He turned on the instruments and for the first time caught a glimpse of the chaos going on outside through the screens. The final battle was well under way.

And he wasn't there. And fuck, they needed to get _out_ of there, or Rodney might accidentally try to take the ship out with them in it. If there was a chance in hell of getting away...

He made a lift off, having to try and turn to look for Kolya. Where the hell was he? Fuck. Breaking formation and he didn't have time for this. "Come on! Where are you?" He shot a blast of energy ahead of him.

It was a signal, and he saw Kolya, running too fast towards him. Firing a shot like that had been a bad idea, because now there were shots being fired at _him_ , from darts inside of the ship, so he opened up the culling beam and hoped.

Now all he had to do was fly out of a hanger surrounded by ships firing on him, fly through a swarming battlefield of darts, cruisers, drones, nukes and all of that trying very hard to kill each other and him. Then work out how to land the thing. And try and kill as many Wraith as possible.

A typical afternoon in the Pegasus Galaxy.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

Time had a habit of slipping. Fast, then slow, then fast again.

After Rodney had stormed out, everything had hit a racing speed, Rodney's voice in his head from the room where the weapons were cached, saying he had to be ready for drones to be loaded and fired and for the love of god to not miss with the special ones, the ones he and Radek had tinkered on. Fast, fast, too fast, more than Carson was really used to, stretching his mind like that. Maybe Rodney was used to working with John on the chair and he'd forgotten how hard it was for Carson, or maybe he'd gotten so used to the tech that he was taking for granted how hard it was for some people to use it, but it didn't change the fact that Carson’s head was bloody well killing him.

Their problem was that there was no one else who could do this here and now. Only John who probably could've done it better and yet he'd agreed with the decision to send John on the mission to get the shields down and seed the Wraith with the virus in enough time that even if their ships were destroyed, the Wraith pilots who escaped would take it with them wherever they went..

Actually, he'd made the decision; he couldn't start fobbing the responsibility off on anyone else.  
He was receiving information showing him the battle raging above him, and voices kept breaking in as he looked for the lucky shots that would help them win this.

It was everything. It was clusters of their forces communicating with each other, bursts of noise in his ears and then voices going silent, underneath either gunfire or death. There were going to be so many dead and injured, and he could hear Evan trying desperately to contact some of the units that John had brought with him. Sometimes there was a connection, but not always and it was hard to resist the urge to get up and go help save lives instead of staying and fighting from the Chair.

"Dr. Beckett! Where's our cover?" the strident tones of Caldwell cut through the back ground noise. "They've started moving in..." 

"I'll do what I can... we have Hive ships closing in around the planet."

"The shields aren't down on all of them."

"It depends on the ships communicating with each other. Until all shields go down, you have to leave one downed ship up to spread it." Rodney's voice sounded in his ear, irritated and snappish. "We've got some souped up drones in the system now, Carson."

"Lovely... what should I be aiming them at?" He could feel them, throbbing with a higher charge and tugging at his thoughts. They were going to need that extra firepower and a whole lot more to get through this thing.

"Cruisers," Rodney suggested over top of Caldwell's voice saying the same, and that was eerie in his head. "Their shielding and half the ship can be taken out with a couple of these modified drones.”

Always good to know. "How...many do I have?" Carson replied trying to focus on his last batch of normal drones. They were swarming around the Daedalus, stripping out dart after dart.   
He wasn't sure how long he was going to be able to keep this up. He was already coming up to the longest he had been in the chair in one session.

"Twenty. We're working on more, but this is, this is – just use them. Keep using them. We'll keep you supplied. I'm leaving the link open if something extra just – In case."

"Alright... thank you Rodney," he said and reached for the first of the modified drones. It gripped back at him as he sent it for a launch and he had a disturbing sensation that something was tearing in his head as it accelerated out towards the cruiser menacing the Daedalus. He was having to follow the damn thing all the way up, steering it more directly, his consciousness merging with the missile so it was like himself that he hurled at the shield of the cruiser.

The blinding shock of impact threw him back out of rapport and to the next and this time, he was going through the shield and arcing down and ripping the side of the cruiser open, sensing Wraith spill out like ripe seeds into the darkness of space. He knew, scientifically, that the cold of vacuum space would kill them. He knew it, but he could still imagine them hitting the atmosphere and flaming to nothingness. 

And then he was reaching for the next drone, falling apart at the same time, like he wasn't getting all of himself back after every drone, and what the bloody hell had Rodney done to the things?  
The third was like diving into hell as the Cruiser exploded in a flare of energy that scattered him everywhere.

Oh God, he was dizzy and the sharp pains were there again, and when his sight came back to the here and now, he could barely focus. 

"Beckett! There's than more than one of these out here!" Caldwell demanded sharply and he tried to pull himself together enough to speak.

"Aye.. getting to it..." he managed thickly aware that he was breathing rapidly from exertion. "The new drones are... different." 

"Three Hives lining up..." Evan radioed in. "If you've got any of those meta-drones, this would be a really good... shit!"

There was a crackle and hiss and then dead air where Evan had been.

"Evan... ?" The panic made him reached again for the stock of meta-drones and fling himself out there against the hives in a dazzling blur of light. 

He put so much energy behind it, the first one cracked the shield that was faltering, and pierced all the way inside where he turned it loose and it tore around the insides of the Wraith Hive until the bloody thing exploded. The other two took a little longer and he was struggling to breathe with exertion afterwards, sweating profusely.

"Evan? Come in, Evan..." he asked in panic. Not him, not after everything. The thought of his friend not being there was terrifying because for so long, he had relied heavily on him and Teyla, Ford and Ronon. 

"Anyone seen, seen Major Lorne?"

There was static loud in his ear, orders being thrown around before finally Ford's voice spoke in his ear. "Doctor Beckett? He's, I'm getting him down to Biro. Dart crash-landed right up against our fortifications. It was trying to cull something, I dunno, thin air, shit, hey, Major, don't fight me, you're gunna be just good -- you, get his feet!"

"Carson, I'm -- *shit*, fuck, Radek, get the, get the get that out, what the hell did you do to those circuits?! Carson, we have a, hell, ten more meta drones entering the system -- Radek, put your god-damned coat on the fire and stomp on it!"

His instincts were to get up – or try to, to try and help Evan. Lorne had saved his life more than a few times and it gave him a personal investment in the man's survival. He could still feel the pang of guilt that he might've chosen to not send him on the virus mission simply because he wanted to protect him but... 

No, he didn’t think he could feel any worse about sending anyone as he did about sending John. "Keep me updated on his condition," he said to Ford and then refocused himself. It was strange but he was all alone on the Chair room. Too many emergencies for someone to be wasted standing there watching him close his eyes and concentrate. "Rodney? Are you okay?" 

Strong voice, stronger than he felt and he was trying to brace himself for the next ten of these meta-drones that seemed to tear him apart using them. They needed them, there was no doubt about that, because he needed more. He kept the normal drones to deal with punching in through dart formations, and at any one time his mind was chasing several dozen darts in several dozen different directions. But when he launched one of the meta-drones, he had to sink deeper into the rapport with the chair and at the same time as 'seeing' and controlling the missile through space, he could sense something else... a deeper layer of something he had never come close to finding before. On the next barrage he vowed he'd reach deliberately for what was down there. They needed something more than meta-drones. 

And he needed to know that Rodney was all right.

"Rodney? Come in?"

There was a broken kind of noise, Rodney's voice funny in his ears. The tone was wrong, but he didn't have time to work out how. "Here. I'm, we're getting these done as fast as we can, the Visor's connecting me into other systems of the Tower, which wasn't my plan but it -- so we're having trouble." 

Had that been him? Carson wasn't sure. "Might've been me," he admitted.”I can sense something here... somewhere. Not sure what."

His attention shot to pieces then as he took the next meta-drones and cast himself into space along with them, feeling that there was nothing between him and the enemy save space and fire and it was like he was tearing them and himself apart... 

It took a while to realize someone was talking to him again. His head was escalating into extreme pain now and he had to focus. There was the taste of blood at the back of his throat from what was probably a nosebleed.

"Carson! Carson! Dammit, Carson, respond -- hello, anyone up there listening to this? The weapons loading bay has locked down, we cannot get up there, I need you to disconnect the chair from the visor, I have no idea what I'm looking at right now or what it is. Carson?!" He could hear Rodney's voice crack a little.

"Alright Rodney..." he said and his voice was sounding weak even to himself. "I'll see what I can... I can do..."

The thing was that the visor was feeding information back to the chair, the chair back to the visor and in trying to disentangle it, he slipped into the connection with the ancient technology deeper than ever and realized why emergency protocols had started. The sensors were all going into overdrive because something massive had just entered their solar system from hyper space and the tower was blaring warnings of every sort, flashing up schematics that this was a known Wraith weapon. More to the point, a wraith super-weapon. A planet-destroyer. That's what Rodney was looking at.

"Holy crap, it's a bloody Deathstar," he said aloud, pulling the connection from the visor. "Rodney...? It's picked up a wraith Deathstar... planet destroyer. The Tower is going into emergency over drive!"

"Oh, great, and I'm locked in a small room with a half-burnt Czech and it smells like brimstone in here. Okay. Okay. Deathstar, right." He heard Rodney take a deep breath, and then he could feel the Visor consciously reaching into the chair's systems, or Rodney guiding it to do that. "Huh. Tower's trying to raise some kind of beam weapon -- Zelenka, get to that console there, I have a feeling that the weapon was never supposed to be underground. In fact, this whole complex was probably above ground at some point."

He had to trust Rodney to do his thing, and he had to keep the Hives away from the Daedalus until they could. Either way, if the Wraith fired or they did, they needed to get them out of the way.

"Daedalus, Colonel Caldwell, fall back away from the Wraith Deathstar,” he said, trying hard to sound authoritative.”And if you can pick up any one you can just in case." In case the planet tore itself apart. He could feel the beam trying to function, drawing deep now on geothermal energy. It would come down to who could fire first. The power readings on the ‘Deathstar’ were climbing rapidly.

"We're falling back and trying to consider a strategic approach."

"Strategically you need to get _away_ from it and fall back." Rodney's voice was a distracted snap in Carson's ear, but it went through to Caldwell he was sure, in the vague way because for a moment he could see what Rodney saw, the world skimming into wild schematics and fear when the earth started to rumble around them. "Okay, earthquake, just a little one, it seems that the silo it was housed in is covered over in mud houses or something."

They were out of time. The Chair was telling him of danger protocols that had to be over ridden so it could be fired, and he was busy doing that because this was a weapon of last resort as well on their side as well as the ‘Deathstar’ being one for the wraith. One that could only be, would only be used if the planet was in danger of destruction because the risks involved could only be out weighed by that sort of potential equation.

 _Are you sure?_ the Chair kept asking, warning of destruction, danger to him and the operator, the tower, all of it.

He made a decision. "All personnel out of the Tower... immediately! Evacuate the tower and get as far away as you can. I mean it! Go! All of you!"

"It needs calibrating." Where before Rodney would have been panicking that he was trapped when Carson gave that order, and the Visor trickled him more chunks, flashes of things deep in his mind while he tried to work through the chair. It was confusing, and Carson wasn't sure what parts of him were making the decisions any longer, or if Rodney was doing it through the Visor.

He knew he would have to be in the Chair when they fired, and he knew it had to be done soon. He was translating the information he was getting that they were over 80% powered up and he just hoped this was quicker on the draw. He could see things Rodney was focusing on, the flicker of something he was avoiding and Carson grimaced. "Rodney you can't calibrate it properly with the safeguards on. Take it off. Now."

He didn't get an answer, but he could feel when the safeguard came off, could feel the weapon humming to life sharply, could feel all of the ancient tech in the tower humming harmoniously together as power started to rush into enormous capacitors. That was what it could do when there was enough power, enough people with the gene, and it was no wonder the ancients were revered as gods because there was an awesome feeling to being in the thick of it, mind stretched thin, feeling the other gene-holders who were using tech, whether they were evacuating or not. And there was a strong ATA force in the tower, running through it, but there wasn't time to feel what the Tower was singing out to. They needed to fire, take that thing out before it swept through them. He unblocked all safety concerns and let the energy spike.

"Are we ready to fire?" he asked and he wasn't sure he said it aloud or not. He wasn’t sure if it was people answering him or technology when the answer was yes. He knew what would probably happen to him but he was used to the idea. He hoped Rodney wouldn’t be alone.”

He allowed himself a moment to send a sad apology to Rodney through the visor and half a farewell as well, before he opened all channels and broadcast across the communications channels as he watched the Wraith weapon creep to 99% charged.

"Firing in five, four, three, two... one..." And he reached down with his mind, dimly aware that he had to be screaming as the ground shook with the force of the massive energy bolt firing into space. He could follow it out, follow it up, feel it cutting through ships, lives, burning and tearing with coruscating fire and it was hard to tell what it was taking out, how it was warping the space around them.

If the Daedalus hadn't moved, it was gone, now, and all Carson could feel was a thundering sense of relief before the blast hit the Wraith Deathstar just as it was about to loose its final shot.

* * *

It felt like someone had taken an apple corer to his brain.

He hadn't felt like that in a while. A long while, not since he'd come home to Kolya, but that was the feeling, thick, hollowed out, strained. Radek was still with him in the room, but the tower was silent. The earth had stopped rumbling.

The Visor had cut connection with the rest of the city, and his skull was throbbing so badly that he just decided to balance it in his hands, while he sat on the floor. There was a pretty good chance that they were alive because of the shielding, and that everyone else was dead. Rodney was pretty sure that was the premise of at least three cold-war era sci-fi flicks, the last survivors of the Bomb, who struggle whether or not to leave the shelter and finally do, only to find it not worth leaving, or expose themselves to unbelievable radiation.

On the other hand, they were still on a planet, which still had ground and that had to be a good thing. If anything could be a good thing any more.

He felt as much as heard Carson scream, as every piece of ancient tech resonated with the sound. For an impossibly long time and... and ...he was too numb and battered to know what to do with that, even with Radek sprawled unconscious nearby.

His hands hurt. It was stupid, sure, but his fingers hurt. His tools were somewhere over by the other side, over by the drones, and he'd pick them up later. For the moment, it didn't matter. Quick rewiring, the controls and safeguards knocked off of each and every drone he'd tinkered with. He'd never seen the drones controls before, before the visor let him, and he never would have been able to do it so quickly without it.

He hadn't been sure that Carson could handle it, handle the brutality of a battle but...but he had. And now he was sitting here and his last words, private words to Carson had been angry and he could still see that crack of black hit Carson in his colors and he'd walked away from the man he loved.

And he'd lost John to his stupid fucking martyrdom complex and he didn’t even know if there was anyone alive.

There probably wasn't. The wraith had probably won, or the weapon had probably ironically wiped them all off the map, everyone, and then that sort of undid the stupidity of John's mission because dead was dead was dead. They were all probably dead, and it wasn't as shocking as the thought had been the first time. It was just cold, numbing, the second time around. He didn't have the energy to do more than sit there, waiting, trying to catch himself back together. He'd gotten good at that with Kolya, just soldiering along.

Once he got his head back on his shoulders, if there was still a Stargate to be found he and Radek could... something. Settle in with another group of people, doom them, start the circle over, go back to Earth, maybe, and fuck them over, too.

He could hear something. He thought it was Radek to start with, waking and jostling the debris, but no, there was someone seemingly attacking the door, making it creak and groan. Just his luck if it were a Wraith.

Fuck.

Rodney shifted, got to his knees, and started to slide the visor on. It felt like too much, like his head didn't want any more input, and he could still almost see it running over his mind's eye in his head, streams of it, the exact speed, power, force and energy ratings of the strike that had to have culled the wraith armada. "Shut up out there! You're just going to have to fight for your fucking meal!"

The door was wedged and crowbarred open. "And here I was thinking you'd give me a power bar if I asked nicely Rodney."

"Sheppard?" His heart caught in his throat, and he tripped trying to stand up. "You're alive?!"

"Looks that way, though parts of me are disagreeing with that." There was a scraping sound of metal. "I kinda crash-landed. Badly. I was trying to fly the dart back blind."

And there he was like some glowing angel of light standing there. He could see some...weird patterns around his head that weren't usually there, as if there had been wounds made but they didn't seem to hurt him overly.

"How's everyone else? We – what's going on out there?" How's Carson, but he bit that back as he got to his feet and reached to try to shake Zelenka awake. 

"I missed some of it. Must've been out of it after I crashed," John replied reaching for him immediately, hand touching him, drawing him up. "I was awake and in the tower when Carson called the evacuation. And when the weapon fired. " He sounded a little in awe. "I was trying to get to him."

"Is he alright?" Rodney didn't know. There was just no way to know, because he felt like his brain had shorted out when it had fired. Like that moment was just gone, wiped out. "Zelenka, dammit, get up or I'm going to drag you through every filthy thing between here and the infirmary that I can find!"

Zelenka was groaning as he stirred. "Either I am alive, or I am dead and in hell," he said, giving Rodney a look as he got up. "Is difficult to tell which."

Rodney pulled at Radek's arm, just under his armpit, helping him get up. John was still touching him, and maybe the three of them together could get back to the control room. "Har har. Looks like you're not any more brain damaged than usual. Sheppard, is Carson still in the chair?"

"I never made it up there. I could... kinda feel it reaching out to me but the place started shaking, bits started falling on me," John replied. "There are other survivors out there, pretty much everyone who evacuated. Communications are...screwed. Weird energy pulses do that I guess."

Feedback from the Tower pouring everything into that weapon. Half the place was probably fried, but he and Radek could work through it, systematically, slowly, get some of the people from the Daedalus down. If there was still a Daedalus.

"I want to get to the control room."

"It's a bit of an obstacle course. Your visor working enough?" John asked even as Zelenka staggered along behind them. "I think we're the only ones in here. I saw people over at the village after I came around." He was heading in the right direction at least. "It's almost like there's a barrier up stopping them from getting in. Let me in though."

"So you just... flew off the dart, just like that? It worked, you..." Just got in and got back out, and Rodney wanted to hug him, but maybe he was still shocky. Everything was still strained and surreal, and he needed to see Carson.

"Well..." John sounded like he was grimacing. "Few close calls getting in, and I beamed out Kolya in the Hive. Then we planted the virus... and... " John hesitated. "We were hidden out of sight and he just decided to open fire upon a patrol to get the enzyme. After that there were alarms and I got shot with those stunners of theirs. Must've been out a bit, then I was interrogated by the Queen of the Hive until she got bored of me. Kolya got me out of the cell."

And yet Kolya wasn't there.

Kolya wasn't there and Rodney wasn't sure what to do with that piece of information, any more than he knew what to do with John *being* there and Carson having screamed like that. He needed to see Carson. One goal at a time, and then he could work through all of it, but at least, at least John was alive. "Okay."

"Then there was running and killing things and I managed to get the dart back, pick up Kolya and the trip home was pretty rough. Both sides were shooting at us. Got one hive to kill another though." John said. "Got clipped by a drone, then by a 305, started to flat spin and I was trying to get the emergency beam out to work for Kolya even as I bellied her out and then just completely tore that pointy tin can to pieces."

Dead, then. Kolya was dead and Carson had screamed like someone had gutted him, and John was just walking with them, chipper as anything and -- "I, can we get to the control room? I can't think right now."

"Sure," John said and he was close then, helping to support him. Close enough to smell blood and fire on him at least. "You might need to try and get the door to work. It's just up around here..."

"The visor is smarter than I thought it was," Rodney commented vaguely. Radek seemed stunned beside him, which was probably bad that he was quiet. "It tried to interface with the chair and anything else it could until the weapon fired."

"I'm guessing it was made to do that sort of thing," John said. "Radek, you okay there?"

"Yes, yes. It's minor. Burning. Too much energy in system," Zelenka replied sounding weary. "Have been without sleep a long time."

"Yeah," John agreed. "Here's the door. I could probably get it to open if there is power running into it."

"Hard to guess," Rodney murmured, trying to reach out to the door with the visor to see if it would respond the way the drones had, the visor _or_ the door

There was a flicker and then a stream of information flowing into his mind. Including critical reports and warnings about the state of the Chair and its functions. It wouldn't be hard to reroute power where it needed to go. He wasn’t sure if he could face seeing Carson but he had to get in there if only to shut down the protocols locking everyone out of the Tower except them.

He could apologize. Would have to, because he'd been stressed out, stretched thin and tired, and Carson had sent John off without any warning at all, and a little notice would have been nice. If he wanted to be someone's mad scientist in the back pocket, he would have stuck it out with the Genii, because they were all about the unquestionably following orders shit. "Okay, give me a second..."

"Not going anywhere." John replied. "Radek, get over here. You know you should've put something on that burn."

"I was busy," Radek replied. "Mainly being unconscious. But yes, your field dressing would be good. Save some for your head. Much blood... makes me very sick."

Head? Rodney glanced, decided that John's wounds had to be showing up as those darker spots, marring marks, and kept himself from doing 'wound view' to see the actual injuries because he needed to concentrate, switching the crystals and jumping two blown circuits to -- "Door, guys."

"Open sesame," John said and the door damn well seemed to reply by opening. He was starting to wonder how much of John’s slightly flippant tone was actually concussion. "Oh hey, we're in... mind the... shit..."

He saw John move forward rapidly over towards the chair, where he could see colors that were flickering and erratic. But there were colors there.

"Carson?" There were colors there, and that meant Carson was alive, but they were dimmed, dull, different than the dark streak he'd seen before, and he started to let it slide through different views, letting the visor make the decisions as he started after John.

"He's in bad shape," John replied and he was there over him, feeling for a pulse. "I can see bleeding from the ears, nose and mouth. We’ve got to get the shield down so we can get Dr. Biro to him. Pulse is weak and erratic."

Shield, dealing with the shield was him, getting that turned off, when he wanted to see to Carson, when he wanted to try to see if there was anything he could do. But John wasn't qualified to break the systems down, so Rodney twisted, looking for any controls he could interface with.

The place was a mess. It was like someone had irradiated the place without actually irradiating it. But after a bit of work and Radek managing to restore power to a key system, they had power again. And that meant he could just take the shield down. And all of a sudden, his radio was filled with transmissions flicking back and forth. 

"... come in...This is Caldwell, I repeat is the Tower still locked down?"

"It has been," came a gruff voice he recognized as Ronon. "Dr. Biro could do with more beamed up to your ship. Teyla is coordinating the survivors. "

"This is Doctor McKay, we need medical assistance for the tower. We need medical assistance in the control room for Doctor Beckett. We need..." Every scientist they had in there to start putting the place back together, and they needed someone with a leadership sort of brain to start organizing the survivors and to work out just what the hell had happened.

But the Daedalus was still there.

"Rodney?" That was Teyla. "How is Carson? Is he ...alive?"

She sounded like she didn't dare hope that he was. It probably doesn't seem likely.

"Daedalus, Dr. Biro and medical team requesting a beam into the Tower control room," came a hurried request.

"Yeah." Rodney looked towards where John, brilliant and bright, stood beside Carson. "We, uh, is someone out there coordinating what the hell happened? Can we move our people back to Atlantis for care for a while?"

"Rodney, Dr. Weir speaking. I've got everything under control and we're coordinating with the Daedalus."

"Daedalus preparing medical team to beam in," A voice came and then was cut off by Caldwell. "Glad to see you made it in the Tower," he said. "Skies are pretty clear here.. Whatever that weapon was it destroyed more than just the... Wraith planet destroyer. Dr. Weir is getting the survivors back to Atlantis for now. That weapon triggered a series of earth quakes that have taken out most of the habitations."

Given that they were mostly mud huts, a good wind could have taken them out, so Rodney wasn't much surprised. Mud and stick huts. He looked towards Radek, then back to John and Carson, and started towards them because there was nothing left for him to say and too much still left for him to do. He should have started in on the city, it needed to be fixed but he needed to sleep and eat and it just...

"Whoa...Rodney, sit down before you pass out," John said, holding on to him and easing him down. "Daedalus, where's that medical team. Dr. McKay and Dr. Zelenka could use them as well."

"Sheppard?" He could hear the incredulity in Caldwell’s voice. "How the hell did you get there?"

"Crashed. Look, seriously, we need that medical team right now..."

John’s arms were holding him, warm and steady even as he stared at Carson’s dusk-dawn colors guttering like a dying candle.

He just wanted five, just five god-damned minutes without something going wrong, twisting to hell, without having to face some world-ending threat, just time to _stop_ , to have everything stop. No more people disappearing on him, dying on him, running off, running in, just, nothing. It didn't matter that John was holding him up standing, because he was still slipping. "I want a new scriptwriter for my life. This is –"

"This is where we go home. Where you get a rest okay?" John said. "It'll sink in soon enough, but you... you did it. You managed to do what the ancients couldn't. You beat the Wraith. "

"Acastus is dead. Carson's... hell, you're probably going to die of some freak blood clot in a few hours. There's no, the Wraith can't be gone, there'd probably hiding somewhere, there's probably a, a nest of eggs somewhere, I don't know..."

"Rodney... Rodney... easy now..." John sounded solid and fine. "I think I beamed him out okay? Carson is still alive and he's got you to live for." His tone made it clear that was reason enough for him to fight for life. "Carson thought about all of that, that's why I had to go with the virus. They won't reproduce spontaneously and we are into extinction numbers. It's going to be okay... "

And he felt it, a kiss on his temple as John held him there, even as there was the flash of energy that signaled the appearance of an emergency medical team.

* * *

Considering the crushed tin can he'd made of his wraith dart, John knew he was lucky to be getting away with just some cuts to the head – which had looked worse than they were and bruising, which might've had more to do with the Wraith guards than the crash. Apparently he was only mildly concussed and space in the Infirmary was at a premium so they chucked him out and anyone who wasn't in need of emergency care, and that meant neither he or Rodney had been allowed to see how Carson was doing.

Being told he was in a coma wasn't the same as being there.

After he'd been told that, and that no, he wasn't allowed to stay, Rodney had disappeared off into the city. He hadn't slept in John didn’t know how long, and he'd just been told that Carson was in a coma, and somehow someone thought that letting him just wander off was a good idea.

It made him all the more eager to get out of there and find him. He'd had a helluva day one way or another - well, they all had, one way or another but he'd been going to pieces at the Tower and maybe he could see something that no one else could in Carson's quarters. 

Fortunately, Atlantis liked him and Rodney and it was pretty easy to get her to tattle where he'd ended up.

After the fall of the Genii homeworld, Rodney had been given 'back' the room that had been his. It only made sense, seeing as all of his stuff was still there, albeit a little dusty. It wasn't much of a surprise that he'd gone back there, or that he'd locked the doors.

He tried knocking first. "Rodney? I know you're in there... Can I come in?" he asked hopefully.

"Huh?" There was Rodney's *voice*, at least, and a little pause before, "Yeah, come in."

He entered the room, not surprised to find the lighting dim - Rodney wouldn’t need much light with his visor input. "They let me out. You have anything to eat? I grabbed an MRE just in case you hadn't..."

Rodney liked MRE's. It was amazing but miracles happened.

"Hmn? No, I was just..." Rodney waved a hand around the room vaguely. There was a dull metal something clutched in his fingers, like a melted blob. "I don't know. Decided to look through some of the stuff I brought with me when the homeworld fell. It's. Strange. I feel like I haven’t stopped moving since then. Acastus was very..." There was another vague wave. "Structured about down time. And I don't think I've shaved in days."

John looked at him carefully, noting how strained and exhausted he looked and how much rough stubble was mottling over Rodney’s chin. 

"Yeah, looks like it." He realized suddenly they had taken away Rodney's means of dealing and coping and not given him much in return. He grimaced a little and moved forward. "I think you better eat, take a shower and I'll... help you with the shaving thing if that’ll help?"

He didn't really expect to watch Rodney's mouth tip a little, down and crooked, and then he shook his head a little. "Sure. It's, I can't actually perceive mirrors with this." He gestured to the visor a little, but he was already turning away to the bathroom.

"Yeah, I imagine that could be difficult," John said. Maybe Carson had been doing this for him, or maybe not. Carson had been always at someone's beck and call and there were people lining up to try and get in to see him. Pay their respects. Practically elevate him, and all of them to legendary status. He couldn’t think of anything that the mild-mannered doctor would like less.

People just kept doing double takes when they saw John again – apparently he had been on a suicide mission and had forgotten the bit about dying.

"I didn't used to think about it much." Which implied, since he was always clean shaven when they'd done missions with the Genii, that someone kept on top of that _for_ him. His hair had always been shorter, too, kept in tight like a Marine's. But when the Genii homeworld had fallen...

And it kept going back to that, which was sort of funny and sort of depressing. Kolya had been crazy, but apparently he'd taken care of Rodney. In a bizarre, property-esque way.

Rodney stopped by the bedside table, took the visor off, and set it down with that piece of metal, and turned with a hand against the wall to head into the bathroom.

If Kolya hadn't been so manifestly after John in a pretty sexual way, he might've respected the man. That was one thing he hadn't had to deal with in Afghanistan. Humiliation and torture, but none of the men wanted to be associated with such a heinous sin as anything relating to sex with a man, so he'd been pretty safe from rape. 

It didn't sound like Rodney had been exactly abused sexually, but on the other hand, it didn't look like he'd had a lot of choice. Brainwashing... .that was what it was about. He could imagine how it must be to believe you would never feel anything again and then have someone give you everything you craved.

Stripped away his job, which pretty much defined McKay in the first place, his friends, told him his lover was dead, and then he ended up _blind_ , and Rodney had said something about brainwashing, a drug the Genii used to subdue people causing the side effect, and it all added up to something like Stockholm syndrome in John's head. He hadn't given too much thought to the consequences of separating Rodney from that, because they'd been so busy trying to not be dead.

Well, now he and Rodney and the people of the Tower and half the Genii were not dead, which was a pretty good average, but Carson was in a coma.

Rodney shut the bathroom door behind him.

John was a little bit hesitant about what he should do next. Did he go in after him? Carson had hinted that Rodney needed a lot of attention but would he be muscling in if he gave it to him? He didn’t want to be the guy who came between them. Who poached someone while their lover was in a coma.

On the other hand, he remembered what it had been like when they had made it out of Afghanistan. He would've killed for someone to touch him. Just a little, just so he knew someone cared he was alive. He couldn't not... he couldn't let Rodney feel that way. So maybe he could be a stand in, just for a little while. Just until Carson woke up and he could back away.

It would hurt, yeah. It was going to be Leonard all over again, even if Rodney and Carson didn't exactly have a wife and kids to run home to. The concept was the same, and the part where he was left alone was going to be the same. 

But he could do something to keep Rodney from feeling like that and dealing with the aftermath alone, Carson had pretty much asked him to be around.

He made a decision and opened the bathroom door. He cleared his throat a little. "Rodney, you need any help?"

"Hmn?" He could hear Rodney over the sound of the water. "Why, what, uh, I'm just trying to find my way around in here is all."

"Yeah, well I realized maybe you were used to someone helping you out," John said. "I can go away if you want, or I can just uh... keep you company or something."

He wasn't sure what he expected Rodney to do. He was a little hard to gauge, prickly sometimes, wide open and confused other times. "I just want to get done in here, get some food and sleep. Why don't you... "

'Go to hell' was just as likely a suggestion from Rodney as 'come in'. "Come in anyway. You're probably not going to go away."

"Yeah, I'm irritating like that," John replied lightly. "Keep turning up."

He really wished he was better at this instead of standing there, feeling awkward as Rodney got into the shower.

Was there some kind of protocol, other than to close the door quickly behind him because he didn't want to let any cold into the small room?

He hadn't seen Rodney naked before, and Rodney *couldn't* see him, which at least shaved off some of the awkwardness. Rodney was all lean muscle, hair on his chest, arrowing down to his dick, and... And really good looking, pale with a few stark, paler scars on him.

John tried not to be self conscious about his body but that was difficult when he had a lot scars, some from Afghanistan and that last night, and then the occasional one from the times where he stupidly did something on a mission, and the barely new tissue from his recent brush with that Wraith weapon. He'd seen Carson's expression when he'd looked him over and okay, he hadn't been pitying or revolted but he'd just looked... sad and John didn't know how to deal with that.

He kinda appreciated the fact that Rodney couldn't see him physically because maybe once he had been worth looking at, but now, no, not really. They all had their scars.

"I guess, I'm just making sure that you get that rest and sleep," he said after a while, hoping it didn't sound too odd.

"I appreciate it. You *are* the military commander, which means that there's probably a hundred other things you could, should be doing." Except everyone needed a break and technically he was concussed so he was here. Rodney twisted a little, posture odd, like he wasn't sure where he was in relation to anything. His eyes were always closed, and his eyelashes were wet, stuck together from standing under the shower head. "Can you hand me the soap?"

"Sure." It took him a moment to find it and pass it over. "Technically, Caldwell is pulling rank and I've apparently got some sort of slight concussion so they really don't want me around." John stepped back some, looking to find a towel and some shampoo. If he'd known he wouldn't’ve had one before he got here, he would've joined in. "Anything else you want?"

"About half an hour of time so I can schedule in a nervous breakdown, and I think, uh, I'll be good to go again." Rodney flashed him a bizarre smile, holding the soap under the water before he lathered up.

"I'll pencil that in for after the shower and shave then shall I?" John replied. He was itching to help. “You get those bruises seen to? You've got some pretty spectacular ones coming out there."

"Anyone who wasn't gushing or..." Rodney waved a hand vaguely, and he started to rub the soap in. "You know the routine. Not enough space, too many wounded. A few bruises have never killed me before. I think I'm usually bruised somewhere."

And before he knew it he had stepped closer as if that would somehow protect Rodney from that happening again. "You shouldn't be. You need some time to rest. Everyone else gets a break. You should too."

Rodney stood up a little straighter, turning vaguely towards John. "I have no idea how that relates to being knocked around in training exercises."

"I mean ..." John didn't know what he meant really. "We kicked the ass of the Wraith...Carson kicked their asses. You can afford to have some time that is not working, not training exercises. Just, your time okay?"

Rodney ducked his head back under the water, and if John hadn't been dressed, he would have joined him. "I haven't had time to myself in years. I wouldn't know what to do with it."

"What did you use to do?" he asked, aware that the mere act of talking helped. Cam had done that a few times. Just talked complete crap at him until whatever had tied him up in a knot that day released. Sometimes he'd talked as if he was talking to himself, but it had worked,

"I, uh..." Rodney ran his hands through his hair, and then started to pat around for the shampoo. "It's, uh. I used to just do normal things, I guess. Go out, watch TV, read. Send scathing emails to people who solicited my help for their asinine research projects."

"Got a copy of War and Peace you could borrow," John suggested smiling a little as he reached in and handed him the shampoo. "Radek made some sort of network and forums. You could harass people on those. And TV...there's some movies around. Even got some pop corn. we could do that."

"Movies are a pretty visual form. Just to use the laptop I have everything has to be stripped down to green and black just to find a wavelength I can see it at. It's..." Rodney started to lather up the shampoo, and he was talking casually, like he wasn't standing there naked while John was dressed and standing in the bathroom. "Not something I'm in the habit of doing any more."

"Well, maybe we can get Atlantis to do a link in. Worked when we were trying out the Chair right?" John asked. He looked around and found something that looked like a robe, and had that ready just in case. "But not tonight. It's been a long... a long few days."

"It has." Rodney ducked under the showerhead again, and left John with silence and a robe to hold onto. Who was he kidding? He wasn't Cam. He didn't know instinctively what to say, and he didn't have a damn idea what was going through Rodney's head.

There was this idea that if you couldn't understand emotions that you didn't feel them as intensely, but he knew that wasn’t the case. His problem was he felt too much. Always had. Wanted what he couldn't have, focused on the impossible, trusted too much to luck. Fuck, what was he even doing here? This was crazy. He wasn't _helping_ , he was making things worse and there were a thousand things wrong with him standing there and him handing Rodney a towel as he came out of the shower, and then automatically helping him dry off.

Except, that was exactly what he did. That was exactly what he did, and Rodney didn't say anything against it, he just let John, tried to work with him and half dry himself off, but it was like he was used to that kind of treatment. Which was fucked up because if you were deaf, blind, whatever, you dried yourself off after a shower by yourself, no help needed because it was your own skin, but...

And Rodney wrapped his arms tight around John's shoulders, hugging him once the robe was on, a little desperate.

He didn't say anything to start with, just held him there. His fingers touched hair that curled with the damp, fingertips brushing over a mole on the back of his neck and it was like something falling into place in his life. John didn't need to wonder what was missing, what was going to fill that gap in his purpose, and his emotions because... here it all was. Holding on to him as if he was capable of saving someone.

There weren't any words. Rodney sometimes seemed like he never shut up, but he was quiet, face pressed against the side of John's neck, sagged against him, breathing hard, a little edgy, and then he was crying.

The really weird thing was that should've made him uncomfortable. It always had before and he couldn't deal with the fact that he might lose that sort of control but all he was thinking as he supported Rodney was 'Finally..' as if it was a relief Rodney was letting go. He wasn't good as saying much but he could rub his back gently and murmur in his ear. Stupid things but things he wanted to be true nonetheless.

"Shh, it's okay Rodney, gonna be okay. He'll be okay, promise... he's tougher than people think, and he's got you here to come back for... it'll be fine..."

It should have been awkward. Rodney was already struggling to pull himself back together, making that twisted up choking noise that people made when they were trying to stop crying before they were really done.

He didn't want to pick him up or anything like that. He'd done that with Leonard and he hated it. Wouldn't look at him afterwards. So instead, he backed them up against a wall and drew them both down to sit there. "It's okay," he said again, because that was all he could think of. Right now he almost wished for Kolya back if it would stop Rodney hurting.

Anything. Because he didn't think he was going a good enough job, even though it felt completely right to be there. Even if Rodney crumpled down with him like it fit, like he was supposed to be there. "I, it's so, f-fucking surreal..."

"Which part?" John asked. "The part with life-sucking recently defeated space-vampires or the alien city or...the fact we're alive?" he asked.

It got a choked laugh out of Rodney, and he pressed his face harder against John's neck. "That last one..."

"Yeah, kinda wasn't expecting to be here myself," John replied softly, hating the fact he was enjoying this. Wanting it, needing it. All those hyper sensitive triggers he'd built to give him motivation to live, to find reasons to live were humming in satisfaction. Protection, comfort, contact.

Right up until Rodney socked him in the stomach. "Don't _do_ that again! No more volunteering for suicide missions, not e-ever!"

He was totally unprepared for that and it was enough to make him wheeze and fold up for a moment. "It wasn't a...suicide mission!" he protested. "There was no one else who could do it."

"Pilots? There are other pilots!" Rodney’s voice still caught in hitches and rises, and it would have been hysterical if Rodney hadn't just punched him.

"Not other pilots with a strong enough ATA gene to fool the dart," John replied. "I explained all this to Carson. The only other one who could've flown it was Carson and... I thought he'd be safer at the Tower."

"I told him the two of you shouldn't be allowed to collude on anything more important than a pizza," Rodney muttered, "and I was r-right, dammit. You do not risk your leadership like that, either of you, even the fucking _Genii_ know that!"

John ignored the ache where Rodney hit him and smiled a little. "When it comes down to these sort of stakes...it's bigger than leadership. I'm not the ranking military here. Not any more. And Carson..." He exhaled. "I got the impression he hasn't had much choice. It's not an excuse it's just a fact."

Rodney ducked his head back in again, and huffed a shaky, frustrated sigh. "Ranking civilian after myself, and we were civilian led. He..."

"...never expected to be in charge," John murmured. There were a lot of things he recognized in Carson from himself. "Look... none of us has said much about what happened to us before. You've got a history I only know the bare edges of. You don't know a huge amount about me, and Carson... he makes sure no one thinks of him as being the one giving the commands."

"Now he's the guy in the coma, and Elizabeth and Caldwell..." Rodney shrugged, bumping closer to John and sniffling. "Dammit."

"He'll be okay," John assured him. "He'll pull through and be the biggest hero of all of us."

"Until the two of your duel for most martyr-ist again." Rodney's fingers were pressing against his stomach now, a softer touch that felt like an apology for the pretty fucking unexpected punch.

"Is that even a word?" John asked with a smile. It felt good to feel someone that close. "I'll make an effort to not do that any more."

"It's a word because you and Carson have acted in ways that demand it be added to dictionaries. At least..." Rodney sighed again. "We should get up."

"Yeah. I promised you a shave," John said unable to defend himself from the accusation. He couldn't help it, it was what he did. He just... hadn't untangled any of that in any of his compulsory sessions and doubted he ever would. "Or do you want to wait?"   
"Might as well do it now. I'd like to be clean-shaven when a lone wraith cruiser plummets out of atmo towards the city."

"Atlantis would warn us and I could probably knock it out of the sky using the Chair," John replied calmly. "Hold on, let me get a razor or something.” He carefully moved without dislodging Rodney too much and got himself a razor, some shaving foam and some hot water. Good enough to do the trick at least. He ended up half kneeling in front of him to get a good angle.

Rodney seemed willing to oblige, moving, shifting so he wasn't flat on the floor. "Acastus always used a straight razor. I forgot what a disposable could do."

"Well hopefully I can't screw this up too much," John replied, spraying some of the foam out on his hand then smoothing it into Rodney's face. It was an excuse to touch him. To be this close, and this intimate with someone. It made him take extra care, to make every stroke of the razor smooth and fine. To not nick his skin or hurt him. And despite everything including his own tiredness he was responding to that himself.

There was a sort of power balance involved in doing something like that, the way that Rodney sat still and responded only when he needed to. It was trust, pure and simple, wide open trust. "Nah. See that gauge on my jaw? I tried to shave myself with that straight razor once. The hair never did grow back in that spot."

"I wouldn't like to try that myself," John said waiting for silence before he continued. It was strangely erotic to him, or maybe he'd just been a little too long without action but everything seemed fresh and wonderful. Either that or it was the semi-concussion.

If it was, he needed to do things like that while concussed more often. 

"Mm." No motion there, and Rodney tipped his head when John's fingers prodded him to move, scraping off beard growth and shaving cream in clean strokes.

After he was done, he couldn't help himself but brush fingers over smooth skin after he had wiped Rodney's face clean. He wanted to kiss him again but before they hadn't known Carson had been alive and dammit, he _wanted_ it but he didn't know what to do.

It was so hard to guess what to do. Rodney was throwing out cues left and right but they were never the same twice. "John..."

"Mmm?" He lifted his fingers away reluctantly. "I'm sorry I'm uh..." Not able to control urges? To think straight?

"Don't apologize." Rodney's fingers reached for him, caught the edge of his cheek a little too hard, and then he slid them to cup the back of John's neck, pulling him in. "We're all fucked up. We're..."

Standing on the edge of something he wasn't sure he could pull himself back from. He'd resisted torture, survived the impossible and yet when it came to Rodney doing that, his willpower was shot to hell.

John drew in a long slow breath. "I don't want you to be alone tonight," he said. He was sidestepping all the things that might mean. He didn't want him to be alone, he wanted to be the one here, holding him. Just that if he could stand it, and he ought to be able to do that after everything else. "But I don't want to... I mean, there's Carson and even if he asked if I wanted to... I..." 

He was the true love in a coma and that meant anything else could never put him in a good light. Ever.

Rodney went quiet, fingers still on the back of John's neck, before he pulled at him. "Idiots. Was this another colluding thing, because I meant what I said about the pizza. How about that MRE and some sleep?"

"Yeah. Yeah okay," John replied and felt obscurely ashamed that he had doubted Carson asking him those questions. "When he wakes up, maybe you should talk with him."

“Yeah. It's a pretty long list of things I need to say to him." Rodney did lean and brush his lips against John's, though, a quick motion, before he clutched him tight again. "Standing up is good, too." 

"Yeah, I get that," John replied and helped him get up. The kiss was more a promise than an invitation and he could deal with that. He could use some sleep himself as he wasn't sure being knocked unconscious counted. "This way Rodney." 

"I appreciate this." It didn't sound like something Rodney said very often, that he appreciated anything. Or at least, it wasn't something that seemed... John didn't know. He didn't know, and he was tired, and Rodney was too easy to guide towards the bed.   
Food, and then sleep.

* * *

John was a fascinating creature.

There had to be a zoo, somewhere, made up of people like John and Carson. Knowing Pegasus, there probably *was* a zoo of ancient gene-ed people, only they'd call it something else and Elizabeth would urge them to be culturally sensitive. But.

But John had stayed with him all night, on that shitty narrow ancient bed with his old mattress. They'd eaten, and then they'd slept, as simple as that, when he could see the sparks in John in the morning, the way his colors danced like he'd been rejuvenated. 

And now Rodney watched Carson from afar. Biro wouldn't let him settle in at Carson's bedside, busy fussing over him herself, and there were a stream of visitors who apparently were so much more fucking important than Rodney. People he didn't entirely recognize, not reliably. But he could watch Carson's colors.

They were like watching a very slow dawn where the changes were so imperceptible in flowing one to another that it was hard to see the moments when they definitively shifted.

The interesting thing was how many people had to see him. And they all had that tell tale flaming intensity of a violet edged light that he'd come to recognize as something along the lines of wishing something to be otherwise than it was.

It surprised even him and he'd known Carson was the more likeable one. He knew it surprised Elizabeth as she greeted all the people Carson appeared to be more than allies with. And all of them had to relate their stories and look at him as if they were gazing on some sort of legend.

Perhaps they were.

Carson was the head of the Trinarians, and they -- he, Carson had -- had created the cure to Rodney's weapon, that many of the planets who manufactured the weapon benefited from. Carson had spread medical knowledge through a pretty fucking backwards galaxy that would have made medieval Europe look kindly. And they'd known him better than Rodney had in the past three years.

He wasn't exactly sure what he thought Carson had been doing while they had been separated but Carson hadn't really wanted to talk about it. He'd just wanted to spent what time he could touching him, mapping every difference with his fingers, slipping back into familiar roles and okay, he had to admit it, he was finding it hard to get his head around 'Carson the Leader'. 

Considering Carson had always run from every hint of difficult decision making or responsibility for things other than medicine, he didn't think it was that unrealistic of him not to understand completely. But neither did it mean Carson was *bad* at it.

And he wished Major Lorne who was in the adjoining bed next to where he was standing would stop watching him watching Carson.

 _That_ was the other fun part. They kept _staring_ at him, and he could see that, he could switch to infrared and see the heat of their eyes locked right on him. Like he was a traitor or something, and no-one was doing that to Elizabeth. Like he needed to be watched, or, or, Rodney didn't know. But it was damn uncomfortable.

"Can you see how he's doing?" Lorne said eventually, after the long uncomfortable silence. Lorne's sea-green and liquid blue bore the floating stains of his injuries but he was on his way to recovery.

"Yeah. He's starting to heal." Healing meant coming out of a coma, healing meant not being dead, and he needed Carson to not be dead. Maybe they were always going to be screwed up and it was going to take a while to understand Carson as he was now, but hey. He wasn't the same person, either. He wanted the opportunity, though. He needed to apologize for that last fight.

He heard an exhalation of relief at that. "Good. Good...It wouldn't be right to lose him now, not after everything," Evan replied. "You have no idea... I don't think there's a single one of us who he hasn't saved personally. Some of us more than once."

It made sense. Carson was a doctor, and Pegasus was a great place to get injured. Rodney crossed his arms over his chest, peering towards Carson's bed. "I know I have no idea." They'd had a horrible time of it at the Tower, from what he'd heard from people, from snippets of conversation, just god-awful, like nothing any of them had ever expected to have to do. Like he'd been living a cakewalk that was all sunshine and kittens.

"If he had his way, you'd never know," Lorne replied. "He's, I don't know... he's almost ashamed of decisions he's made. Although I still think he should've allowed me to arrest Kavanagh after the second time the man wanted to take over."

"I could get rid of him for you," Rodney blithely suggested. "Carson shouldn't be ashamed of what he's done. He's a hero."

"Don't tempt me." Evan sounded like he was smiling. "Yeah...yeah he is. So are you – we'd been hearing stories for a long time about the Blind One... destroyer of more Wraith than anyone."

Yeah, he was such a hero that Biro wouldn't let him near Carson. Not that he hadn't knocked her out to save John. He was sure that didn't have much to do with it. "I just did what the SGC always wanted me to do. Less research, more things that kill. I've gotten good at it."

"Yeah, we've heard that too," Lorne said and there was a pause before he spoke again. "Look, you need to know a few things because I know he'd never tell you himself and if I do it now he hasn't told me to keep quiet. Dr. McKay, he blames himself for not finding you, rescuing you. I was full of these ideas about storming the Genii and he stopped that because I was pretty much out of my head on drugs at the time, and there was about one person in ten who was able bodied at that point."

"There's nothing to blame. There's... no point." Rodney shifted his jaw, trying to not clench. He needed to talk to Carson, but of course whenever he came out of the coma he still wouldn't be coherent. Rodney hadn't been big on patience for a long time. Possibly age three. "I should have rescued myself."

"Yeah well, see the thing is, I suggested one not long before the Genii coup and then we got word through the Ripousan's that they had seen the bodies. They... picked you out. I don't know if that was something deliberate by the Genii, but they'd never lied to us before or since." Evan said. "It nearly killed him. It seriously nearly killed him where he'd survived being partially blown up by culling on Manara and then from controlling all our Jumpers with his mind when we lost half the pilots. We had to keep him busy, we couldn't leave him alone because... he wanted to die. There's no other way to put it."

Carson had grieved him. Rodney knew that, knew in the same visceral way that he'd grieved Carson, had tried to run away and had nearly gotten himself killed in the process. But he couldn't *fix* that, there was no way to undo what had happened, and while he was sorry that it had happened that way, it... "Why are you telling me this?" 

"I'm telling you in case you think there's been someone else since everything," Lorne said in a low voice. "There hasn't. Not for lack of encouragement from people like Teyla or grateful allies. I'm telling you because you need to know why everyone seems to need him so much. We pushed things that way to keep him with us."

"Do you really think I care if there *has* been someone else? This isn't some bad novel where I reject my best friend because he's been sullied." The second part of what Lorne was telling him, he wasn't sure what to do with. He wasn't sure whether that was *brilliant*, or ingenious to lead Carson on like that, if that was what Lorne was implying.

"Then what's the deal with Colonel Sheppard?" Lorne asked in a low voice. "I know Carson, I can see how he was looking at you both. What I'm trying to say is I'm not going to let you hurt him. He's hurt enough already, he really has.

"If that's a threat, I take less kindly to them now than I ever did before." He tightened his arms over his chest, stoically watching Carson, just Carson. "They've colluded on this. And I'm not going to get any answers until Carson wakes up. If anything, I've been set up."

"Then maybe it's Colonel Sheppard who needs a few words, because we didn't get this far for his life to be ruined," Lorne answered. "You don't get it do you? He's been leader and doctor to all of us and more. He brought the three groups together and suggested that we should work together, and get other people to work together. He broke... every damn rule there's ever been about diplomacy but it worked. In the end it worked. He made an alliance as big as and stronger than the Genii did without Dr. Weir's expertise. He personally carried the responsibility for saving our asses in each battle and used the chair even though it fucking hurts him to use it..."

Lorne seemed to realize he was running on and cut himself off.

And what the hell was Rodney supposed to say? I'm sorry, but Saint Carson of Beckett is still _Carson_ , and he makes decisions for himself that aren't always the best thing ever. "What part of ‘they decided something between themselves that I was not party to’ do you not understand? Trying to get an answer out of Sheppard is impossible, because he does the exact same 'Oh, no, nothing' that Carson does. So just, how about you let me worry about who I'm spending my time with. Oh, that's right. I'm not allowed in the actual infirmary because *some* Doctor seems to think I'll shoot her!"

"Well you did knock her out and abduct a critically ill patient... she might think you might do it again," Lorne replied. "Look, she's not there at the moment and the Terserc of Baum has finally left. Why don't you go over now?" 

"Because you've been staring at me for the past twenty minutes, and I thought you were here on watch dog duty or something." He stayed where he was, and finally unfocused himself enough to see that, yes, there were no people around Carson's bed.

"There's not a lot to look at here once you've catalogued the patterns in the ceiling," Evan replied. "Besides, yeah, I've been watching you. You've changed a lot since we worked together before. Gotta admit, I would never have connected our Dr. McKay with the legendary Blind Man."

"I hated fieldwork." Now, though, there was a certain rush to it, and a certain affirmation of his prolonged usefulness involved in it.

Rodney shifted, unfolded his arms, still watching Carson's colors. He'd go over. Sit with him until Biro ran him off. "Yeah I know." Lorne settled back. "I'll ask Elizabeth to give you a bit of time. Never thought I'd see the day when you'd patiently wait your turn for something. Guess you have changed."

And what the hell did that mean? He knew he'd changed, he just wasn't sure it was for the better.

"I guess it's a good thing you didn't meet the new and improved Bates." He left Lorne that to chew on, carefully picking his way through the infirmary as he headed towards Carson. There were a lot of hazards in an infirmary, hazards that needed to be avoided at all costs.

Most of them were the various doctors and nurses, but for once he seemed to have picked a moment free of other people and random trolleys of lethal syringes or scalpels and he made it across to settle next to Carson. He could look at him in a bit more detail. There was more of the midnight blue rather than black that was void of color, and there was a bleed of purples and red shot with thin streaks of gold starting up again. The sunburst in his centre wasn't visible which worried him, but there were hints of glittering diamond glints around his head that he took to be low level thoughts.

He wanted to see that sunburst center again, wanted to see the Carson in Carson. Rodney pulled the chair a little closer, reaching for Carson's fingers. He'd never been big on displays, on doing things where people could see, but this was... or _he_ was past giving a fuck. You could only lose so much, so many times over before what people thought stopped mattering.

He'd watched other people take Carson's hand, and there had been no response. He had no reason to expect any different, as he smoothed the fingers gently, for all his anger that Carson had done this, that he and John had colluded in an almighty fuck-up.

But he couldn't be imagining the little swarm of silvery sparks that crawled around where his hand was touching Carson's and then flickered up towards the head and the chest. He could fool himself for a little while longer. "Hey. It's me. Rodney. I didn't know you were the huge big wig with more diplomatic allies than..."

Well, pretty much anyone. Huh. There were more silvery sparks at the sound of his voice, and if he looked carefully, it was like some tense knot of color was unfurling when he spoke. "So, I waited my turn. Biro hasn't been letting me near you. I guess she thinks I’ll kidnap you, but I don't know where. You're the person people go to for medical miracles." He curled his fingers against Carson's hand, trapping it between his.

More of the reaction and it was like some understated hollywood effect as the sparks seemed to swirl and gravitate towards the centre of his chest. He wondered if this happened to all coma patients or if it was just Carson. And him. It wasn't like there had been this before now.

There hadn't, he'd been _watching_. It probably was something stupid to do with their genes – Carson's gene, since he was only borrowing it – interacting on some bizarre level that mere mortals could not comprehend. "Your people really care for you.. I know we were all the same expedition once, but Elizabeth and I... aren't what we used to be. And you were all on the same path, so it's been a lot like being on the outside looking in. And being lectured by Lorne."

But he'd still wanted him, he knew that much. There was no way his reaction could've been fake, he'd seen how he had blazed when he had seen him, despite everything. Maybe he wasn't who he used to be either. There was definitely a distinct energy whorl building in the centre of his chest now. Actual activity rather than passive colors.

"I see you doing something in there," Rodney murmured, leaning forwards, hunching in. He was still tired, sore, a little shell shocked, maybe. It didn't matter much. "I guess you can hear me."

He hoped. Maybe he was meant to say something deep and sentimental. It was so difficult to know how he should behave. Maybe he should make him a sleeping beauty and kiss him. He didn't know.

He didn't have deep and sentimental. He never had, and maybe that meant there was something wrong with him. Loving Carson had been... comfortable. Right. Easy and natural like breathing, and he would have done anything for him, but in words it sounded trite and shallow. Rodney scooted the chair closer, and leaned in to do just that, to kiss Carson.

It was a gentle kiss, something quiet and wonderful because his lips were warm and soft still, and he could cup his hand around his jaw and... 

There was a small light then, blazing like a star seen at a distance but growing closer right where it belonged. And Carson’s lips moved a little against his. It startled Rodney, enough to make him look at Carson again, staring down into his face, fingers lingering on Carson's cheek. "Sleeping beauty, huh?"

There was no answer; that would be too much to ask for. But there was something more there, something more of his Carson rather than anyone else or that blank void.

He'd take that. It was easy to lean in, still holding onto Carson's hand, and rest his forehead against one still arm. He'd keep him company for a while, and that was the most Rodney could do.

* * *

Carson was dimly aware that this was not the first time he had attempted to come around. In fact he wasn't sure, but it was possibly the third if the memory of lips and a kiss wasn't some hallucinatory experience or a dream that had floated to the surface. The second time had, from his own perspective been a disaster. It had been a brief foray into consciousness that had him nearly going into shock with the feeling that everything hurt like each nerve had been burned from the inside out. 

The brief moment of awareness has lasted as long as it had taken for him to have a blissful sedation which he embraced totally. Now though, he had enough awareness and a much lower level of pain, which he took to mean he had been out for a while at least to drift slowly back to the conscious state. 

Being alive was frankly a bit of a surprise. If he'd thought the meta-drones were bad, the energy weapon had been a point where he had been convinced he was being taken apart atom by atom and his mind tangled up in the light, directing it. He'd had the fail-safes taken off, knew that a human body was going to be fried from the inside out and done it anyway because in the end, he had a planetful of people he wanted to save, and a lover too recently alive in his mind to die again. 

Right now he was drifting under the surface, as if he was just marshalling strength to make that last effort to open his eyes. He felt aware and floating under the surface of bodily inaction. And he could hear something. 

"Not prime Rodney," came the easy drawl of Sheppard from his left side. "And it's not a trick."

"Are you or are you not getting cues from someone else in the room? Because that's ten in a row, and statistically abnormal. 3756."

"Rodney, that's an even number... not prime," John replied. "I know some math okay? And I can work things through in my head pretty fast."

"I just didn't think you'd ever..." Rodney's voice reached towards strained. "I mean, Radek said you did math. And by 'did', I mean, well, but really. You're _good_ at it. It was you who got into my laptop and put the game there, wasn't it? I knew about your strategy plans but…”

Carson remembered that. He remembered looking at John, pale and recovering fiddling with the laptop.

"Well yeah. I was bored. Thought the game might make you smile a bit." He could hear John clear his throat. "I'm not in your league Rodney. I don't think anyone is, though, not from what I felt when we were in the jumper and I linked to the visor. Seriously, totally outclassing everyone... but don't let Radek fool you, he has his moments."

He was glad John had made it. Assuming this was real. He'd sent him to die. Rodney had ...had shouted. He felt an abrupt twitch at that.

"And by moments, you mean moments of... hey." Rodney's voice pitched towards solemn, and Carson felt a touch, the focus of attention on him. "Did you see that?"

"See what?" John's voice seemed to focus his attention as well. "How're his colors looking? I'm still not convinced about your theory about it being Ancient Gene holders that help. I think it's the fact he knows _you_ , Rodney."

His colors? Oh... yes. Dawn, dusk and the noonday sun he apparently looked like when he had been with Rodney.

"Yes, because knowing me has done everyone so much good up to now. Oh, wait, that's right -- it hasn't." There was another touch, but Carson was still trying to work out where it was from or where it was. Everything still felt disjointed. "He's looking brighter. Steadier in the center."

"That's good right?" John said and there was a pause. "It's been pretty good for me," he said in a voice that that was pitched low.

He wanted to say, he wanted to say _aloud_ that knowing Rodney was everything to him. All that happened was another twitch. "That's because I kidnapped you. I don't know what I'll do when you're both out of the infirmary at once." Rodney was touching him, he as sure of that, because it couldn't be John doing it, could it?

"You know Carson loves you," John said in a low voice and he wanted to agree with that. Fuck. "I would've thought the answer would be obvious."

He was implying that he didn't love him and he wanted to challenge that, call him liar because he might not have the visor, but he could see someone in love.

His hand gripped a little then, at whatever it could.

"Hey. Hey, you're talking to probably the guy who's been the most sexually active out of the whole expedition in the last year." There was a pause, and then Rodney added, "Except for Ba-- oh, hey, his fingers moved!"

"They did? Hey... Carson... Rodney keeps telling me stories about you, I think I need you to wake up and tell me if that thing involving the home made lube is true."

He wanted to groan at that - would he never live that down? And as it turned out he was groaning in reality and his... his eyes were responding and there was no agonizing over-stimulated nerves making him want to scream for painkillers.

It was very bright, though.

It made his skull throb, like the light was strobed, or shined right into his eyes. "God, hey, come around Carson. We've missed you. You need to wake up, any time now."

"I'm... working on it," he said weakly and was surprised when the words came out feebly but audible.

"Hey, way to go... how're you feeling?" John asked. "Hope it's better than last time."

That wasn't hard to accomplish. "You came to for about five seconds, and threw up on me." Rodney said it cheerily enough, even if Carson had an inkling of thought that he might not have been so cheery at the time.

"I didn't..." Carson protested, squinting his eyes at the painful light. "Did I?" His mouth felt dry and it was difficult to speak.

"Sorry, you did. I was pretty impressed," John replied. "You want something to drink? If you're out of it long enough, your mouth'll be like tough leather."

He nodded gratefully at that suggestion.

Fingers squeezed his hand, and he was vaguely aware that John was leaning back to fetch something. "You did, really. It was pretty impressive."

"Sorry..." he managed that even if it was a cracked whisper and he squeezed back, trying to lift his arm to pull him in. "Rodne..."

"No, you're not apologizing for anything. I'm sorry that I – I overreacted, about you sending John off. I still don't think either of you should collude on much more than a pizza. I'm going to stand by that one." John was alive though and he didn't know how, but there was a sipper of water that John held for him that was wonderful. And speaking became a whole lot easier.

"I think colluding days are over, whatever that means," he said, having drunk everything available. He was definitely shaky still, but more aware.

"Rodney _claims_ that we had some mutual agreement of, and I'm quoting, 'Mutually idiotic Martyrdom.' " John was grinning slightly, expression loose.

Carson knew he probably looked guilty. "Would you believe a loss of memory?" he said hopefully.

"I tried that, it didn't work." John pointed out.

"I was just..." Trying to make Rodney happy, to make up for everything, to just do something and then he'd sent John off to die and it had been like partly dying himself. And he was too tired and too bloody emotional for them not to be seeing everything in his expression. "Just trying."

"I have a guess what you were trying." Rodney's mouth twisted a little, and Carson suddenly wished he could see his eyes. Rodney's eyes had always been amazingly expressive, rolling and canting and peering sideways, but now it was flat metal. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. You didn't need that."

"Besides I told him it was my idea," John added and Carson had to glance a moment at the feeling of someone else taking his hand. John was holding his other hand, and that was a bit unexpected. 

John had also seen his startled look, and smiled in a slow easy way that was far too attractive. "But I told you... ordered you to go."

John shrugged. "I've been known to disobey orders before."

"It's something he's comfortable with," Rodney shrugged, squeezing Carson's fingers. "He came back in one piece. Crashed the dart he flew back, but Lorne's doing okay now."

Abruptly Carson remembered he hadn't even asked about anyone else. "Evan – is he okay? Did we lose many? Did everyone get out of the Tower? Teyla? Ronon, Ford... Are they, I mean... " It made his head hurt trying to concentrate.

"Some, didn’t make it. Everyone got out of the tower, except Radek and I. Radek's okay. Teyla and Halling are helping with the restoration of the tower. Ford and Ronon are okay."

"Lorne has a pretty manly limp,” John added to Rodney's mellow litany. "Kolya, we think, didn't make it. Ladon and Sora and Tyrus have formed a triumvirate to lead the Genii and their allies."

Carson nodded. All that time...all that time building a group together, and everything was gone. "Did...what happened with the Wraith?" he asked finally. He remembered screaming and feeling himself torn across space, trying to steer light as if that were possible.

"Destroyed. There's the possibility that a few wraith in darts escaped, but the viruses should have spread. When we're regrouped, we'll start to re-explore." Rodney’s fingers slid over the back of his hand, massaging gently at his palm. "We've been on pretty restricted time with you. Apparently half the galaxy wanted to see you. Thought you should know. Teyla's been handling them."

"Half the galaxy?" He didn't even know how long he had been out. "Why would anyone want to come and see me?" Aside from Rodney and by extension, John from the looks of things. They were very close.

"Something about all of the good things you did, oh, and destroying the wraith. Funny how that's gotten around." Rodney's mouth tipped, and his fingers pressed against the back of Carson's hand again.

"But that wasn't me, I mean." He wasn't sure what he meant. Maybe that he had been controlled by the technology as much as he had been trying to control it. Maybe that it had been all of them, or that it had been Rodney and his genius attacking the Wraith and threatening them enough. John and his bravery to infiltrate a Wraith Hive. 

"Bloody Hell, I don't know what I mean..." He closed his eyes again against the tiredness always lurking. He hadn't been expecting to get out alive.

"Just get some rest," Rodney murmured. He leaned in again, closer, close enough to kiss, Carson supposed. "We'll be around, but Biro'll run me off eventually. You're _awake_ , and that’s the important part."

"Aye..." He managed to reach up a little and kiss him, the sense memory of an earlier kiss in his mind. Rodney was alive, and hadn't shouted at him. Either his condition had been more serious than he thought and he'd scared him, or this was some coma-dream.

Possibly both. "Plenty of time for that when we get you out of here," Rodney murmured, but he didn't lean back. His mouth lingered near Carson's, like he didn't really want Carson to get to sleep again.

He didn't want to but even this had exhausted him and though he tried to stay awake he was struggling - even if he managed to kiss Rodney again.

Before he remembered they were essentially doing all this in front of John.

Rodney didn't seem to care, though, face tilted down to look at Carson as if he was possibly the only thing in the world. "Oh, hey. I guess I'll get Biro now, huh? Get some rest."

He managed a 'mmm' sound before he actually settled back. He wasn't going to be running around just like that after this one, he could feel that much.

But it seemed like no-one needed him to be up and about that fast, so he could at least recover without guilt.

* * *

Elizabeth looked around her office in Atlantis, still struck every time she walked in the room of what a miracle it was that she was there again. And by default, acting leader once again. It provided her with great satisfaction that her long treasured hope that they would not be abandoned had proven true. For so long, she had struggled to maintain that faith, watching how the Genii had broken and reshaped Bates, seemed to tame Rodney and bend him to their will and she had felt alone even among her fellows. 

And she tried not to think of the anger she had harbored half directed at Carson for apparently getting the survivors killed because now, she was the one realizing exactly how impressive a job he had done in her absence. It had been a little disheartening to realize someone else could be as good as she was without any training.

Better, possibly. The people he'd brought together had supreme faith in their combined ability to defeat any enemy, and why not? They had destroyed the wraith. Now she had to try to knit together her alliances and the Trinarian alliances. There was the matter of what to do with the Tower, too, and the SGC...

She didn't like the last message she had received. It hinted at a debriefing session for key personnel and that Colonel Caldwell would be discussing the details with her. 

Her reports had been thorough. Maybe Colonel Sheppard had skimped on a few corners, or something. She didn't know him that well, but Lorne seemed to respect him in some strange way.

She simply didn't _know_ him. And Rodney, well. Rodney had all but tied himself to the man.

Kolya, she was very sure, had broken something in Rodney. Rodney had always been independent, free functioning, and now he cleaved himself to the nearest person in control. It wasn't a surprise. Elizabeth liked Sora, but she had never fallen in love with her or even become good friends with her. 

It had ended up as an amicable working relationship with a degree of respect thrown in. But this dependence on Sheppard; she wasn't sure but she could see the similarities in role there. Military commander, protector, similar sort of maverick style, intelligence. Perhaps Sheppard was a pale version of Kolya.

Thank God Carson had woken up, even if he kept trying to do too much.

Carson was just like he'd been before, only _more_ so. Instead of withdrawing to better manage his leadership position, it was like he sank into it, got twice as involved with people. Even with her in command, Elizabeth knew that half the people – Teyla and Lorne and Ford among them – looked to him for guidance, not her.

"Doctor Weir? Can I come in?"

She looked up. "Colonel Caldwell, please... yes have a seat," she said trying to quash a very human pang of jealousy at that.

"Thank you." He flashed a brief smile, and pulled out the chair across from her desk. Like he belonged doing what he was doing, and that she was the one who should be welcoming him into her office. "I received a message in our last transmission to the SGC, and I wanted to talk with you about it."

"They notified me to that effect," Elizabeth replied. "Something about a debriefing? They didn't specify who, however beyond telling me it would be key personnel."

Steven Caldwell shifted in his chair, head tilted down and mouth a smiling grimace that Elizabeth understood well. Ladon made that face. Kolya never had, that obvious show of discomfort where the person was aware of what they were going to say and tried to soften it with empathy. She knew it well from back on Earth.

"They want to speak with all of you. You, Colonel Sheppard, Doctor McKay, Major Lorne, Doctor Beckett. We... The SGC wants to get some of you home, in shifts, to reacclimatize you to earth again. But the lead personnel from the first mission and this one first. It's been a rough few months."

"Which translated out of diplomacy speak means they are not sure that we can be trusted and we are in a position to do the most damage," Elizabeth replied, allowing a little of her annoyance to seep through. "I understand the... rationale for that judgment for Rodney and myself, perhaps even Carson, but I don't understand that for Colonel Sheppard. He is from the SGC."

"Simple debriefing after the mission. And some of his reports need to be explained." Caldwell cleared his throat. "Look, you have to understand how it looks. You were captive for over three years. Sergeant Bates is dead. Doctor McKay has..."

"Doctor McKay was principally responsible for discovering and implementing an effective strategy against the Wraith," Elizabeth pointed out and wondered what reports needed explaining. "If you take Carson and I away, you are essentially depriving this place of leadership... or is that your point Colonel?"

"I've been led to believe that the natives can lead themselves quite well. Commander Ladon, Tyrus and Sora of the Genii? Teyla and Halling of the Athosians? Or do you consider yourself part of them by now?"

"Subtle attempts to trap me into stating that we've gone native aren't going to work Colonel," Elizabeth said, knowing she was finding it hard not to sound annoyed. Her style had become necessarily forceful in dealing with the warrior cultures the Genii favor contact with. "What I am concerned about is how the alliances that have been made will continue without our intervention."

"Do you really think that they hinge solely on your or Doctor Beckett's involvement? Any alliance based on one person is a weak alliance. I've seen the Trinarians. They'll at least keep it together if we recall you for a few weeks." Weeks, not days. Weeks was a lot of time. Weeks was a lot of time where Rodney wouldn't be allowed to wear his visor.

"And are you going to expect Rodney to be blind all that time?" Elizabeth said trying to regain her calm and poise. "Or Carson to go through long interrogation when he has barely managed to walk from one room to another?"

She owed it to them to look out for their interests.

"There's a very good chance that we can do something for Doctor McKay. This is about... getting them reacclimatized. No, we can't have Doctor McKay walking around with ancient technology."

"You can’t do that to him," Elizabeth replied. "He is very vulnerable without it, and he is one of the only people who can use it."

"Then he wouldn't be allowed off the base. Look, either we reclassify him as a Pegasus native, or we get him debriefed. You're not in the same tenuous situation. At least you're not still dressing like them and pretending to be military!"

It was a point and Elizabeth had mentioned it, but Rodney was comfortable in that uniform and it was hard to take that away from him. "Colonel, Steven, look Rodney was a part of the Genii military. He formed part of a special operations squad – and the dressing like them, well I doubt he is that aware of the difference. Normal visual cues have not formed a part of his normal responses for some time. Don't judge him without knowing what he has been through."

"Just think of what it looks like to the SGC. Yes, he participated in another government's military. He was sleeping with their leader. He..." He waved a hand slightly, looking frustrated. "Look, I know. But the order did not come from me."

"I know that Steven," Elizabeth said and she had this horrible feeling that things wouldn't work out if they went to Earth. "And no doubt you will be the military Commander of Atlantis without Colonel Sheppard here?"

"In his absence, yes." He cleared his throat slightly, and Elizabeth wanted to lean forwards and throttle him.

She wanted to say something pointed like, a starship isn't enough for you? But she bit that back. "I see. Well as I understand it, Colonel Sheppard has done a fantastic job of locating us and playing a significant role in saving a lot of lives and ending the threat of the Wraith."

"I'm sure they'll be commending him." Caldwell shrugged vaguely. "You can tell the command 'staff' yourself, or I can do it, or Colonel Sheppard can do it. Your choice."

"Oh, I will be telling them. I was just telling you to not get too comfortable in his position," Elizabeth said and raised an eyebrow, "Unless you know something I don't."

"I know that the IOC will be impressed to see your healthy sense of paranoia." Caldwell stood up, clearly ready to let himself out. "It's a simple debriefing."

"Of course," Elizabeth replied. "When do we have to leave?"

Paranoia? More like common sense. Earth or Genii, they were up to something.

“The next reported dial-in is supposed to be tomorrow." 

"In which case, they will be expecting us then. I better let everyone know then. I'm sure there will be a few things that they will want to tidy up before going back to Earth." Elizabeth said looking at Caldwell. It felt like a brush off. If she lost her command after all of this...

"I doubt you'll be staying long." Whether that was supposed to reassure her or not, Elizabeth wasn't sure. What would she do on earth?

"I hope not," Elizabeth replied with a faint smile. "Thank you Colonel, I appreciate it.” Words and courtesies and she was already wondering what the others would make of it even as Caldwell left.

* * *

"Carson, I'm serious, don't make me have to carry you back to the infirmary," John was saying. "If Rodney finds out that you've been here all of today, he will... well, I can live without the sarcasm of doom."

"Aye well, I'm working on something for him," Carson replied and he looked tired and pale again. He was getting better but he seemed to forget he had undergone the equivalent of getting struck by lightning over and over.

John counted himself as a reasonably good patient – compared to Carson, he was a _fantastic_ patient. It was like how Lawyers made shitty counsels for themselves -- Doctors gave themselves the worst advice. But at least Carson was in a lab, and not trying to be off-world, or trying to visit the Tower.

"Can't you work on it from the infirmary?"

"Well, they tend to take things away from me there," Carson complained. "I think I know where my limits are. I have had to deal with more than this in the past."

Just because he had, didn't mean that he should, John knew that much.

He'd been told that by enough people who cared what happened to him to know. Rodney would have been there telling Carson that, if he hadn't been declared 'vital' to the city, and fixing some problem left over from the day of the attack and the storm. "Hey, I understand that. But you don't _have_ to deal with it, now."

"It's not like I'm needed to do anything else!" Carson replied with surprising heat and then almost visibly deflated. "I'm sorry John, I shouldn't've snapped like that. I’m just a bit..." He shrugged a little and John found himself a little concerned. Carson reminded him of himself after Afghanistan.

"At a loose end," John finished for him. "Look. You're needed here. You're really needed here, by lots of people."

More than anyone could've predicted. He'd heard tales from Lorne, who had managed to corner him and warn him if he hurt Beckett in any way he would personally hunt him down and then turn him over to Ronon and Teyla.

That was a pretty effective threat, especially as he had been doing some 'training' with the pair of them, which had him hitting the floor at regular intervals or getting hit with a stick. The first time he took a sharp hit by her, he had been totally unprepared for his body’s reaction which had been to either run like hell or do what he did in the end which was to catch the next strike and lock into place, much to Teyla's consternation. He'd laughed it off but he wasn't convinced he'd gotten away with it.   
"No, I was needed..." Carson said glumly. "But then there's Elizabeth, who let’s face it, is bloody good at this leading thing, and now they've got another doctor in charge and Dr. Biro is better qualified than me for actual medical issues. I'm just... a geneticist. The world hasn't come to an end with me having been out of circulation these last three or more weeks."

"Nope. Because you killed all of the wraith." He threw that out blithely. "Look, Biro will be happy to turn the infirmary back to you when you're healed. Take my word on this. Everyone who came on this mission as a civilian volunteered because they wanted to _fin_ * you guys."

Carson had very blue eyes when he looked at him like that. It was disconcerting. He knew Carson had to be thinking that Rodney had moved on while he had been in a coma, because Rodney was hopeless at lying. He wore his emotions on his face all the time and maybe that was because of his blindness, but Carson had to see the way Rodney smiled at him, the fact someone had shaved him each morning, the hundred and one giveaways that they were close.

But even though they shared the same bed, it had never gone further than that. Because he wasn't going to take Rodney away. He knew how much that hurt and he couldn't be responsible for that sort of pain. "Aye, I know. But we're found, which means... all of it is over," Carson said quietly. "That's how it works John. You and I both know that, don't we?"

"It just means you can start the next part of your life." John knew he was hovering by the chair Carson was sitting in, but he didn't have any other options. "Let me take you back to the infirmary. Rodney'll be back soon enough, and if he doesn't find you there..."

 _"I will kick your ass, Colonel Sheppard,"_ came in over his radio.

Too late. "Hey, Rodney – let me guess you dropped by the Infirmary after the meeting huh?" he said aloud.

And probably listening in as well.

"Bugger." Carson said succinctly.

_"And much to my surprise, Biro claimed you kidnapped Carson. I think she's a drama queen. Where are you two?"_

"Up in what was generously called my office," John replied. "Carson wanted a bit of peace and quiet and since that group of marines went to Torinia and came back with uh... fire-rash, it's been a bit overwhelming down there."

He was watching with surprised as Carson was clearing up paper and scribblings at great speed, as if he didn't want them seen.

Which made him intensely curious about what they were, so John couldn't really help leaning over. _"Fantastic. Don't get comfortable. We're being recalled to earth."_

He could see sketches of what looked like the visor and anatomical sketches of the eye, optic nerves and complicated DNA looking sequences but then he realized what had been said. "... what? Who is?"

 _"*We* Are. You and me and Carson, Elizabeth and Lorne, when we dial out tomorrow."_ Rodney's voice edged towards angry, and maybe he was more angry about that, than Carson being missing.

"You're kidding me..." John felt an unfamiliar twinge of reluctance and he might've been imagining it but it seemed like the lights flickered momentarily. "I think you better come up and tell us what happened."

He could see Carson stop collecting papers and look at him. "We're going back to Earth? But...I..."

_"I'm coming up."_

And then Rodney cut contact, leaving John to answer Carson's question. Except there *was* no obvious, simple answer. "We've been out here a while."

"Some of us longer than others," Carson said frankly. "It's not like it's not obvious John. Stargate Command don't know who we are anymore. I'm not sure why you're called back, though."

Because they didn't trust him that much either. Find him useful yes, but he'd always been seen as a bit on the wrong side of abnormal. Sometimes they needed someone who could do incredibly stupid and risky things to save lives. "Let's just say they get nervous when I'm not on a short leash."

Giving him his own command was pretty damn far from a short leash, particularly when it was in another Galaxy.

"Oh." Carson started to shuffle together the papers again, quieter than before. Yeah, at least he knew they didn't trust him a hundred percent. He had people who supported him in good places. 

"Still. This is..." Atlantis. He hoped they'd at least let him come back.

It felt like somewhere he belonged and he could never remember feeling that on Earth. Atlantis needed him, wanted him and maybe Carson felt that too, to some degree. General O'Neill was on his side, Cam would be too, and SG-1. They were a pretty formidable backing force.

"Well, not much use complaining,” Carson said. "I take it we have no choice?"

"If you refuse, they'd probably reclassify you as a friendly native and never let you go back again. Do you... did you have any family?" He seemed to remember something about Carson's mother, but he wasn't sure enough one way or the other to say anything. 

"My mother..." Carson looked away. "Although if she has been told I am dead, I do not know if I could turn up and then go away again. I just... Rodney has a sister. He could see her. How about you?"

"No family to speak of. I think you were all declared MIA, not dead. Still, there's going to be some shore-leave once they've decided we're clear, so we might as well make the best of it. Think of all the back pay you're owed?"

Carson looked at him even as Rodney just let himself in without even knocking. He didn't complete whatever he had been going to say. "Hey, Rodney..."

"Are the two of you colluding again?" He closed the door behind him, tilting his head slightly the way he did when he was switching views. "This is just like the SGC. I forgot how much I hated the 'Jump' part of it all."

"I was colluding in trying to get Carson back to the Infirmary," John said with a half smile

"And I was colluding in not wanting to go," Carson added. "So we're going back? Do we know why or for how long?"

"Elizabeth implied it's going to be for a few weeks. Long enough to debrief us on, oh, the entirety of everything we've done in the past few years. They don't trust us. They think I've become _Genii_." And, well, he _was_ still wearing the uniform, and he still worked with their scientists, so it was easy to see why they'd think that. After all, he'd been the one who'd been reluctant to leave the Genii, and John had put that in his reports.

Shit.

"And you've been leading a government."

"Oh, is that what you call it? Felt a wee bit like a three-ring circus at times," Carson replied and John noted that he always tried to pull himself together when Rodney was around.

He could understand that, but it made him wonder who tried to do that for Carson. And there is was, that insidious feeling where someone tripped those things in him that made people think he was a bit crazy. His protectiveness was just there, wanting to step into that role, and Rodney was quirking his head looking at him a little.

"Real, valid government. So, you lead a government, Elizabeth served as a diplomat to a non-earth government, and I was a military adjutant to Kolya. I didn't know that was how they defined Adjutant, but there we go." Rodney paused, still quirkily looking at John. "This is according to the report Elizabeth read to me. While not treasonous in light of the circumstances, we are being _highly_ encouraged to return to Earth for debriefing."

He was probably seeing something on the Ancient view which just wouldn't translate. "In other words we don't have a choice." Military style debriefings could be rough. And he liked being out here where not everyone knew what had happened to him and looked at him all the time like his head was going to explode with post traumatic stress or something.

"I'd say we ought to pack, but I don't think I've got much to take," Carson replied.

"Except for us," John surprised himself by saying that.

He heard Rodney's quiet exhale more than he saw Rodney walking further into the room. "Yeah. At least we're all going together. Lorne, too."

"He'll be pleased," Carson said. "Evan has a lot of family waiting for him. Maybe you can speak to your sister, Rodney, if we have a moment or two, or just visit"

Which would be difficult if Rodney had the ancient device or didn't have it... John frowned a little. Huh, maybe that was what Carson was working on. Visor diagrams, eye structure and genetic code notes.

"Oh god. My sister. I haven't seen her since, well, it was before they sent me to Siberia..." Siberia, that was a story John hadn't heard about from Rodney yet. He watched Rodney wander closer towards them, between them, rubbing at the edge of his mouth slightly. "Hell. I won't be able to wear the visor."

"Perhaps not at the SGC," Carson said softly. "But uh..." John could see him hesitate and look at his notes and appear to make a decision. "Rodney, I've been going over your notes, and some of the experiences that both you and John have recorded in your reports and I am pretty sure that your optic nerve is intact."

"It is. That was why the..." Rodney gave a zig-zag gesture in front of his eyes. The stitching.

"Your report says that they did that because the after effect of the drug would cause any residual sight stimulus to produce unbearable pain," Carson said softly. "Which obviously means the optic nerve is intact. This pain overload would be caused by over stimulation of the optic nerve and a supersensitivity apparently, only..."

Carson looked at John a moment and then back to Rodney. "Rodney, the Visor uses the optic nerve to transmit data to and from the brain. The reports that I had from you and John where you describe the same experiences in Ancient view were the first indicator. If the information was traveling direct to the brain, an individuals brain would find differing ways to interpret it. What it is doing is producing visual information that overrides the normal input through the nerves provided. You may have experienced discomfort to start with, but now... "

"It doesn't hurt anymore to put on. Well, a tiny bit, and I mean tiny. Where are you going with this?" Rodney's voice canted towards suspicious, and John wondered where he was going with it, too.

"You're not blind any more Rodney, and you won't suffer pain effects from being able to see normally." Carson said simply. "Maybe a wee bit of disorientation as you relearn how to reinterpret normal visual signals..."

"Carson, my eyelids are *stitched* together." But Rodney's mouth twisted down, almost in shock. "How would you, I mean, is this even possible...?"

"Stitches are stitches and eyelids don't bond together," Carson replied. "And yes it is possible..."

John had a sneaking suspicion Carson was holding back. It wasn't hard to figure what. Carson could only be this sure if he was sure there had been no permanent damage like the Genii had claimed. He had no reason to protect Kolya, save to stop Rodney feeling more pain, but that seemed to be reason enough.

"...Before I was running a Government, I used to be a pretty good doctor and medical researcher Rodney. I wouldn't tell you unless I thought there was a strong possibility of success. Maybe I can persuade them to let me do the procedure if you agree on Earth."

"I..." Rodney swallowed, twisting and staring at Carson. "I miss being able to see. But I can do so much *more* with this, I... Can you do it before we leave? I don't want them to take the visor from me. It's just another shiny ancient artifact to them, and they'll claim it's the right of the whole program to have access to it, but I worked for it. If I could leave it here..." Hide it, probably.

"I... Rodney, it's not going to be a seamless transition," Carson warned, and John could see the naked want and need on Rodney's face. "That will mean for a few days after it is off your sight is going to struggle."

"Doc, that visor is his... he knows how to understand it better than anyone. It's been very useful," John put in. "I think we should if we can."

"So? I'm going to spend a few days being questioned about everything I've done in the last few years. I, they'll _take_ it from me if I go through the gate with it." Rodney waved one hand a little.

"Can we do it tomorrow before we leave?" John suggested, looking at Carson. He needed some rest before he started wielding blades around near Rodney's eyes.

"Aye, it should be quick. 20 minutes or so is all we'll need." Carson said.

Probably all he'd have to do was cut the stitches, maybe. John wasn’t sure, but it seemed like it would be easy enough, if Carson was right. And if Carson was right, Kolya had been using Rodney more than Rodney probably even had an inkling of. "Okay. Then we should get you to the infirmary, and John and I'll pack up your things. I'll find Teyla so you two can work out what to do."

"Teyla probably knows what to do better than I do," he replied, but he did get up and John found himself just there to help him automatically. It was something he had started to notice about himself when he started to get attached to someone else.

"That's it. Time for a stroll," John said as Carson steadied himself. "Need a hand?"

"No, I think I've got it." Except that John felt him wobble, and then Rodney stepped up to Carson's other side.

"Let's see about getting you some sleep, huh?"

"We'll get everything ready," John said and Carson didn't shrug him off when he slipped an arm under his shoulder to support him. "Which is a risk you might have to take. I'm sure Rodney can tell me if I'm doing something wrong. He usually does." He smiled a little at the half smile that crept onto Carson's face.

"You say that as if it hasn't completely saved your life at least once," Rodney huffed beside him, and yeah, John wasn't imagining that smile.

Earth or no, maybe things would work out.


	10. Chapter 10

"I still hate surgery. In case you were wondering if that'd changed."

He was stretched out in the infirmary, holding so very, very still while Carson leaned over top of him. He didn't need to _see_ Carson to know he was there, no, he could feel him leaning over him, scalpel at the ready, no doubt.

"I've gathered that from the way you've complained about it ever since you've come down here this morning," Carson replied and his voice sounded very close. "You could have someone else do this you know."

"I'll really pass on that, too. It's just that I associate it surgery with, oh, unbearable pain. Getting shot. Getting beaten up. My eyes being sewn shut..." Rodney swallowed, straining to hold still.

"I've numbed your eyelids with a preparation I came up with after trading with the Yulari. It's really quite wonderful you know, a very strong anesthetic agent with no discernable side effects." Carson was chattering on, sounding happier than he had in some time. "They call it Serussa...Teyla tells me that means something like Gift of the Great Mother." 

There was a faint tugging sensation at his left eye. It made his skin want to crawl. "Great. I'm all for no more side effects."

It made him wish John was there for moral support. Apparently he had to hand over to Caldwell before they left, but he might get there when the whole thing was done. Which would be typical.

"Hold still," Carson said and there was another tug and then Carson dabbing at his eye and the smell of blood. "Just a wee bit of leakage. These stitches have nearly grown in."

"They've only been there for years. Surprise." He was trying to not think about the implication that under the stitches, he could see. That Kolya and the Genii doctors had been wrong.

"Aye, well that is making things a little more complex," Carson replied as there was more tugging. "You do realize that you won't see again normally for a few days at least don't you? At the very least on average it takes the mind a few days to reinterpret signals. They did experiments once with glasses that inverted sight. It didn't take long for people to get used to an upside down world, but it did take time."

"I spent days getting used to the visor. I've done the transition once, the transition back can't be much harder." An agony of headaches and confusion, and before the confusion had been an improvement.

"I'm hoping it won't be as unpleasant this time around. Disorientating, but not necessarily painful, " Carson said with a few more lugs. He placed a cool cotton pad on his eye and moved on to the other. "We'll give that a chance to settle."

"I wonder what it looks like. This isn't something you doctors do studies of, is it? But you're sure it'll work?" He was sure it would work. Carson wouldn't try it with *him* Unless he was sure, but it was worry speaking. It had to look like a mess, like something out of a horror movie, and he was probably all strange and milky-eyed now.

"Rodney, I've told you exactly what I think is the case and the chances for success," Carson replied and then softened his voice. "I wouldn't hurt you for the world, you know that. Any world."

"I know. Just..." Just, if Carson was _right_... "Why did they do this?"

He could feel Carson hesitate. "Maybe I'm not the best person to answer that Rodney. I did spend a very long time hating the Genii in a way I never thought I could feel about anyone else." He was silent a moment and another stitch was loosened. "Perhaps they genuinely believed that you would experience a great deal of pain. It is possible. There are extracts and drugs on Earth that can cause hypersensitivity of the senses, to the point of inducing fatal reactions."

“But I honestly, I couldn't see. My eyes were open and I just couldn't see." But he could see where Carson was going, except what was the point? Kolya hadn’t been responsible for blinding him. Kolya had wanted him to see, because even in the most mercenary view of his life with the Genii, he was useless to them blind.

"I don't doubt it," Carson said wiping over his right eye a moment and putting a cool pad on it. "My charitable conclusions are that they simply did not have the equipment or technology or experience to measure when such a threat was over."

"You should have seen how delighted they were with Bates’ field kit. They were all amazed by antiseptics." Rodney swallowed again, and he was trying hard to not let his brain wander off, trying hard to not think about what everything implied.

He could feel Carson's thumb gently stroke over his cheek for a moment before Carson continued in a brisk doctor style. "Well, that should've sopped up the bleeding. Let’s take a look and try this slowly. I'm going to dim the light some okay? Don't open your eyes until I say so." 

He removed the cotton pads and he could hear him move away and then his instruction of, "All right, now Rodney."

"Opening now." 

He wasn't sure how much Carson had dimmed the lights, but it didn't feel like it was enough. It was too bright, like he'd just had his eyes dilated and he'd walked out in the middle of a July day in southern Nevada. And everything was blurry.

But there were shapes there. A moving shape coming towards him. "How's it feel Rodney? Too bright? Here. John leant me these... his sunglasses. He says it's pilot thing."

"It's bright and blurry. I feel myopic." He blinked, and his eyelids did feel nearly numb. Keeping his eyes open and thinking about it was strange, too. 

"But you can distinguish light and dark and... movement?" Carson said approaching him and he could hear him and that helped. He'd come to rely on hearing a lot.

Even with the visor. "Yeah, you're moving." He reached his hands out, reaching hopefully for the sunglasses Carson had mentioned.

Carson put them into his hands and he slipped them on, more comfortable immediately with something visor like over his eyes, and the cut in light. Things were less glare-bright and painful.

Not much sharper, but definitely less painful. "Huh. So, does it look weird to you? They're not milky or anything?"

"No Rodney, that's Cataracts or scarring and you don't have that," Carson said. "They look beautiful. But I am a little biased."

"And looking through sunglasses." Rodney laughed a little, leaning forwards and reaching for Carson. "Oh, god, I've missed really seeing things. Not that I can now, but I didn't think I'd ever..." And they were going back to Earth, but the SGC wouldn't be taking his visor from him.

"Well just think you'll get to see how many grey hairs I've collected and get to see John in the flesh so to speak," Carson replied even as he took his hand and helped him up. "I want to be around for that one. Should be interesting."

"I know what he looks like on the inside. You're nothing to scoff at in ancient view, either." Rodney let Carson help him up. It was going to be disorienting for a few days. "We should get our gear."

"Should be waiting for us up in the gateroom. John moved it this morning," Carson answered and he was just more comfortable now than he had been. He did find himself missing the visor in some ways. That extra little bit of insight into state of health, or emotion. He'd seen how tired Carson had been yesterday, but to listen to him now, he sounded fine. And there had been that thing with John and the energy tendrils that seemed to be reaching out towards Carson somehow. He'd never seen that happen before, and he half wanted to see what it was all about.

He'd have to go it with normal senses for a while, the older, clunkier way of not being able to see what people felt blooming in their colors. "Okay. Then we're... going back to earth."

"Aye, and the one good thing is with you not wearing the Visor, maybe there's a possibility we can have one of the houses or apartments rather than the billets in the mountain. And maybe we can get some of the take out you spent most of the time lusting after in our first year here."

_"Sheppard to McKay and Beckett. We've got a boarding light going on here from the SGC. Hope you're ready to go."_

"Ready to go," Rodney commented, turning on his ear piece and clutching tight to Carson with one hand, as they started to walk. "We'll be there shortly."

He didn't feel awkward with Carson helping him, especially as it seemed to help the other man. He knew he wasn't the most aware person in the world of feelings, but with the Visor, he'd been able to see the crawling black lines of what he called depression all over Carson entangled with pain and the greys of exhaustion. He just... didn't know what to do with the information.

Didn't know how to make those colors and shades and tints go away, didn't know how to fix Carson.

So he let Carson lead him towards the transporter, and he dealt with the sharp brightness that attacked his eyes when they entered the gateroom. All he could make out was a dim set of shapes in front of a glowing disc of light that had him wincing. 

"Hey, the shades suit you," John said and he really wanted to be able to see now. To see what someone who looked so much like someone on the cusp of Ascension actually looked like. Of course he wouldn't live up to that view, and he was fully prepared for John to not look like much of anything but he wanted to see him. And Carson. He remembered how blue Carson's eyes could be in the right light and it struck him he didn't even know what color John's eyes were at all.

He needed to know. Wanted to know, enough that they could put the debriefing out of his head for a while, the fear of retelling his life to an uncaring listener.

"I'm trying a new look. Is the gate open?"

"Open and waiting," Elizabeth's voice came from behind John. "And I think they are expecting us immediately."

But of course they were. Nothing like giving them a break.

"Then we shouldn't disappoint." He turned towards the blinding ramp, and pulled at Carson, leading more than he was led. They might as well get it over with, go through, say what needed to be said. Face the challenge head on.

He was not going to be treated like some sort of traitor and turncoat just because nobody had bothered to come and rescue them earlier. That wasn't their fault and he wasn't going to let any of them beat them down and take Atlantis away from them.

Rodney stepped towards the light, and said a silent thank you to the ancients for not building a ramp up to the gate that he could fall off.

* * *

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" 

He wanted more than a cup of bloody coffee. He wanted to be anywhere but the stark grey room, seated across from a Airforce Major who was eyeing him with more than a little caution. Like he wasn't already tired and already worn out from the medical workup.

“That would be kind of you, thank you," Carson replied politely. He hoped this wouldn't take too long otherwise he would be pitching head first onto the table. Removing Rodney's stitches had been exhausting in a strange way. He waited for the interrogation to begin, wondering how John, Rodney, Elizabeth and Evan were doing right now.

They were all probably facing the same awful discomfort, separately, at the same time. Elizabeth had looked miserable to be leaving the city again, and Carson knew that for Evan, the first thing that would come up would be the shooting of his superior officer. It made _sense_ to them, but when you hadn't seen the devastation of someone being sucked dry, a planet culled, it wouldn't make the same kind of sense.

"I'll have someone bring it in. I'm Major Ellison Walker, Doctor Beckett, and I'll be going over some of the information we have, with you."

"Oh wonderful." He tried not to sound sarcastic but it was difficult. Pulling teeth would be pleasant compared to this. "Go ahead son, I'm sure there's plenty you want to discuss."

"Would you prefer to start chronologically?" He pushed a tape recorder towards Carson, but Carson was sure it was all for show. The security camera in the corner had no doubt been recording him since the moment he set foot in the room.

"You're running the show, why don't you pick somewhere?" he replied, trying to remember not to fold his arms defensively.

"We're on the same side, Doctor Beckett," the major reminded gently. "Aren't we? Why don't we start with what happened to you and the rest of the evacuees directly after the storm."

"Well we'd evacuated to the Alpha-site...to Manara. We'd traded with them for food...food for medicine was a good way of keeping us in provisions." Carson said. "When Dr. McKay and Dr. Weir didn't come through on time, we tried redialing the Atlantis gate. And kept trying it..."

Hopelessly, way beyond the time he should've told them to give up. But he couldn't. "Eventually, the scientists declared that it meant the City was destroyed. There were technical reasons why they thought that rather than it just being locked down, but it seemed certain. But that didn't mean that they were dead... so we elected to wait on Manara for a while why we tried to get an idea of where they were if they were alive. Teyla had contacts." He shrugged a little. "We got enough information to make us suspect they were alive and captives of the Genii, but before we could act, the Wraith culled Manara, and put paid to that idea."

"Why do you say that it 'put paid' to the idea of staging a rescue?"

Carson had to remind himself they hadn't been there, amid the fire and destruction. "Major, we lost quite a few of our group in that time. Most of us were injured one way or another. In sheer desperation I managed to remote fly the Gateships after we lost pilots and the process didn't leave me in the best of shape. We barely managed to limp from one crisis to the next because the Wraith were tracking us. "

"Why were they tracking you?" Because they had ancient technology and they tasted delicious to them -- there didn't need to _be_ much else.

“The ancient technology we had with us emitted energy, that triggered wraith beacons. Until we figured out how to block that transmission, we were wandering around with the equivalent of a bloody beacon on our heads," Carson replied. Those weeks, months had disappeared in a haze of headaches and exhaustion. It had been very embarrassing... he literally kept falling over. "We practically lived in the Gateships."

"What brought you to what has been referred to in Colonel Sheppard's reports as 'the Tower'? How did you take control of it?" The man had a notepad that he was glancing over. Every scribbled line in tiny writing was no doubt some discrepancy that he sensed.

"That took some time," Carson replied. "We were looking for a refuge that we could defend against the Wraith... dig in a little. One of our teams, Teyla and Evan went through the gate as the Athosians had dealings with the Othaerians. When they got there, they'd just had a messy coup and revolution and they were in complete disarray." Carson cleared his throat. "Once they saw we could work the command chair, then they practically begged us to stay."

"And how did the natives integrate with your own group? Whose idea was it that the Athosians continue to travel with you?"

Carson shrugged. "I asked them if they wouldn't mind..." Was there something wrong with that? "They had contacts and we didn't. Believe me, surviving a Wraith culling is very much a team-building event, let alone doing it week in and week out."

He knew they'd think there was something wrong with the way they had knitted themselves together. But he didn't care.

"And you had what to offer the natives you allied yourselves so closely with?"

Sometimes he wondered, he really did. "Protection. We could work the Ancient Technology. Technology, medicines... Once we were at the Tower we could produce medicines and that became a key factor in our trade."

"So you traded medical assistance to the galaxy in exchange for... what?"

Carson looked at the Major sitting opposite him, and was suddenly rather irrationally angry. He was well fed, in good condition. Didn't have to worry about clothes, food or the basics of life. "Son, I don't think you're grasping the situation we were in. Think about it a moment. We were refugees... we had no infrastructure to produce our own food, our own cloths, materials and the labor intensive basics. We had labs. We had technology. We had weapons. We were... as far as we could tell, stuck out there alone. So we needed allies. As many as we could get."

"And when you did have allies, you continued to fight at the Tower," the Major pointed out. "You were willing to utilize SGC resources and men."

"Yes." Carson looked at him. What answer did he want? Of course they had continued to fight. "Look son, at that point, there was no sign of the SGC, there were... other things that were taking up attention and we had to deal with the occasional Hive ship wandering our way. They only way to live in Pegasus is to fight. There was no option to be partisan... understand? What was I going to do, turn around and say...’we're sitting this one out?’ ”

"So you were comfortable commanding a member of the Airforce into a suicide mission with an enemy as his aid?"

"What?" Carson felt himself derailed a moment. "You mean Colonel Sheppard?" He took a deep breath. "You have a bloody strange definition of 'comfortable' son. Of course I wasn't comfortable with it! But I didn't see a choice. To complete that mission you had to have a strong ATA gene _and_ a more than passable pilot ability. I might have one of them, but I'm no pilot. Of the other gene holders, none of them have manifested as strongly as myself, and I'm not in the same league as John. It was a... necessary mission. Kolya's presence was John's decision."

"And according to reports, he did not return." It didn't seem like a question, just a statement. "Let's backtrack to, say, your first alliance with another people through the group that you had taken to calling the 'Trinarians.'"

* * *

John considered his level of irritation as well as his next answer. Level of irritation rising... check. Nearly at the point of un-slouching... check.

"Well, I wasn't in much of a condition to argue about much at that point," he said maintaining the fiction of his lazy drawl. "As Sergeant Bates had just managed to shoot me with the one weapon capable of taking out a Wraith."

"But despite the strength of that weapon, you apparently managed to fly a Gateship for the next 20 minutes?" The full bird Colonel who was giving him the hairy eyeball was Texan from his honest to god drawl, the kind of guy that John usually rubbed the wrong way.

"... Yes." John had to admit that. "It was either that or die. And everyone else with me." He gave a partial smile. "Apparently I bled a lot, if that helps."

How could he explain that he couldn't let himself collapse until Rodney and Elizabeth were safe, and all of their friends too? Say he had a ...Thing? Cam would understand, but Cam wasn't here, grilling him. Hell, he wasn't sure he understood how he did things half the time.

"It doesn't." It was deadpanned. "So, this weapon. You say Bates fired it at you and you killed him?"

"Actually, Bates fired it at Dr. McKay and I happened to be in the way," John replied. "He was preparing to fire again so I shot him from my vantage point on the ground." So reasonable. "He apparently believed that McKay was a traitor to the Genii... thought he had sold them out to the Wraith or something.”

"Do you have any information on why you think that occurred?" Hell, that the man had called McKay a traitor was probably a plus point for them all. "After all, the Genii were working with your expedition, correct?"

"The Genii tended to have their own agenda, but yeah, they were working with us, because they knew the technology on Atlantis to be the principle means of stopping the Wraith.” John replied. "The reports I have were that Bates was broken physically... brainwashed to be a loyal Genii Allocated."

"And these reports were from Doctors Weir and McKay, who presumably were _not_ brainwashed?"

John hesitated. "Dr. Weir's had the least in the way of intervention. Dr. McKay... it is my belief, and that of Dr. Beckett that Kolya manipulated the situation so that he would become attached to him, and dependent upon him for most things. There is evidence that there was physical abuse and the fact they blinded him... temporarily through the sensory deprivation process. However, in the end, Dr. McKay's priorities diverged from that of the Genii. Particularly when he discovered that Carson was not dead as he had been led to believe."

"So it could be said that he did betray them. When you worked with him, did it seem as if at any time he were undermining the mission?"

"No. Assuming you mean our mission." John answered. "No, he didn't and I wouldn't say he betrayed them as such as had a strong regard for survival when I offered him a way out."

"Do you think that if he were offered a way out by... anyone at all, he'd take it?" What kind of asinine question was that?

John quirked his head a little. "You have read the report right? The one's where I describe that it would've impossible to steal them away, and that he left with me because he could see it was that or certain death? He devised their Delta protocol. He knew what would happen.

"I know he only left the Genii reluctantly. As you just said, it was you or certain death. It doesn't make you very comfortable about how loyal he is to the SGC."

"Well that connection to the Genii took some wear and tear after Kolya got turned," John said. "He's loyal. I'd trust my life to that."

John was pretty sure he had done so already.

And he hadn't been led wrong. Rodney was, Rodney had had a hell of a time, and so had Carson, and the fact that either of them had kept on working after everything that had happened said it all to John. "Just what happened _to_ the Genii leader?"

"Kolya? A Wraith attacked him...clamped their feeding hand onto him and pumped him full of Wraith Enzyme – it's something they do before they feed, only the Wraith had its arm severed and... instead of dying, I guess Kolya was altered." John grimace. "The enzyme makes you incredibly strong, resilient and fast, but on the down side? Paranoid, irrational and schizo. He was on a fast track to dying if he didn't get more enzyme, and he threatened Dr. Beckett, had a small altercation with myself and escaped for a while."

"After the attack, weren't you in critical condition? Do you know what occurred that led to the decision to take him in a dangerous mission with you?"

"I was. I recovered thanks to Dr. Beckett," John replied. "The decision was mine. Kolya was the one that had secured the Wraith dart. The successful defense of the Tower and the nullifying of the Wraith threat needed a means of getting into a Hive and uploading Dr. McKay's virus to bring down the shields. And Dr. Beckett’s virus that would inhibit the Wraith spontaneously regenerating as a species. The Wraith dart was that possibility. I bargained for Dr. McKay's life and for the dart. The price was him coming on the mission. Which I was willing to do, because he was too erratic to leave at the base, but on the ship would serve as a distraction."

"A sacrifice. Have you ever thought of doing that with the leader of an allied group before, Colonel?" Oh, that was what it was about. He hadn't even *been* the leader at the time -- he'd been quietly deposed by a triumvirate of saner Genii.

"No." John sat up a little. "One, he wasn't a leader at the time, two, he knew the risks before he went and three, I damn near killed myself trying to get him out alive."

The man inclined his head slightly, and seemed to be writing it down. "Then let's go back to first contact with them. Start there."

John forced himself to relax again and start the story once again. He didn't know exactly what they were getting at, but he was damned if he was going to undo all his hard rescue work with military paranoia.

* * *

"So Dr. McKay, I understand that you gave the Genii nuclear capability?" the man in the room asked him. He was already bored of this man Woolsey’s attitude and tone.

He was obnoxious, and he fidgeted, and he didn't seem to grasp anything. "They were already nuclear. They were at the stage we were in the 40s -- you know, poisoning ourselves, heading for Chernobyl." His head was hurting, so he had his eyes closed behind the glasses. Once the numbing agent had worn off, his eyelids had started to ache, twinge.

"And yet you gave them functioning atomic bombs which you then used against the, uh... Wraith." Woolsey paused a moment. "A tactic of encouraging... terrorist methods. Suicide bombers and so on."

"My tactic. My personal tactic. The wraith _fed_ on us. They culled planets to _eat people_. Think of it like... if the cows started to blow themselves up in the slaughterhouse doorways." Rodney waved a hand a little. Really, what did they think they were doing?

"So essentially you were encouraging people to kill themselves so the Genii would succeed." Woolsey stated. "That seems to have been your top priority... ensuring the Genii succeeded."

"No, no, I was encouraging people who were _going_ to die at the hands of the wraith to not die sitting and scared. Did you _miss_ the cattle in the slaughterhouse analogy? It's not like the cows drove themselves to the slaughterhouse. They were headed there anyway, I just asked if they'd like a bomb to kill a few of their murderers with."

"You could've potentially attempted to save lives?" Woolsey suggested. "The SGC has a strong policy or preserving human life."

"We were _saving_ lives! A fully awakened hive ship consumed roughly 200,000 people a month. There were 60 hive ships. By the time they attacked the Tower, there were only 20-ish left. I say that counts as saving lives!"

"And the Genii were culled," Woolsey pointed out. "And half the population killed by the Delta protocol as well. Is that why you shifted allegiance?"

"I told Kolya to not go through with the Delta protocol." He'd told Kolya, but he _knew_ the Genii, knew that if an option existed they would use it without remorse because they were in the end a proud people. "I told him. And yes, we were culled for our... the Genii were culled for the resistance we gave the Wraith. But my shift in allegiance had everything to do with personal choices. I had been lied to and manipulated by Kolya. I also tried to save as many Genii as I knew."

"Mmm. How were you lied to and manipulated by Kolya?" Woolsey asked. "You showed little signs of resenting this treatment."

Now the man was just digging for lurid details, and Rodney resisted the urge to cross his arms over his chest because it would look as defensive as it actually would have been. Bureaucrats, they were bastards, all of them. "According to who?"

"The reports we have received indicate that you were in a relationship with Chief Kolya. This puts your loyalty in a much more intimate light." Woolsey said. "It is difficult to believe that you can set that aside again."

"Kolya used me as property. Our relationship was... beneficial to us both, but not based in any form of honesty. The longer I've been away from him, the more obvious that has become." Which was true. Carson thought it, that Kolya had known he wouldn’t be blind forever, but he hadn't said it to Rodney. But Rodney knew he was thinking it. And if he didn't bring John into it, all the better. "To start with, the rest of the expedition wasn't wiped out."

"Which you believed to be the case?" Woolsey queried. "Why did you think that?"

"I went with the scouting mission, because I refused to believe that their encampment had been culled. Until then, I had been very clearly held prisoner by Kolya. Afterwards..." Rodney cleared his throat, sat up a little straighter. "I didn't react well to seeing what was left of the Gateships. I found Doctor Beckett's flag of Scotland in the rubble, and then tried to run for it. They captured me, and the men who took me back were loyal to a separate governmental faction than the one Kolya was part of. I was tortured for, oh, a couple of months, and when Kolya found me again... there wasn't much sense to trying to run when there was no-one I knew left but Bates and Elizabeth."

"I see. So Kolya rescued you?" Woolsey said. "And this was the point where you lost your eyesight?"

"Yes. I had been on a drug that made me, uh. Sedated, and in a sensory deprivation chamber. When I was rescued, I couldn't see. It was a side effect of the drug. It took some weeks for us to come up with a solution."

"Which was the visor technology that seem so versatile and... conspicuously absent," Woolsey pointed out. "Is there a reason for that?"

"There is," Rodney conceded. "I didn't want it taken from me."

"And you believed that the SGC would do that?" Woolsey asked. "Why?"

"Because all ancient technology is carefully hoarded in vaults in the complex, studied until the end of time, and seldom put to actual use. I paid for that visor with my service to the Genii and Kolya, and I'm not having three years of work locked into a vault so scientists who never leave their god-damned cushy offices can coo over it!"

"I see." The answer clearly made the man uncomfortable. "Dr. McKay, I'll be frank. The SGC has concerns about how much of the... brainwashing that occurred still persists. Various reports from other members would indicate that they believe there are effects but they do not feel that you are compromised. Stargate command does not have the luxury to just assume that."

"What do you need to hear to believe that?" After all, he was home. They'd brought him _home_ , they couldn't just think he'd run off to join the crazy soviet wannabes.

"That is a difficult question to answer," Woolsey replied. "So I will have to content myself with a thorough examination of events. Let’s go back to what first happened when you and Dr. Weir were captured by the Genii... in detail."

“Oh, fantastic. Hey, wait until I get to the part where Acastus sliced my arm open to get intel from me. It always made for great dinner party conversation..."

* * *

Cam had been off-world when the Atlantis command had been recalled, otherwise he would sure as hell have been waiting to give Sheppard the thumbs up. He'd had the normal post mission check up in the Infirmary and saw for the first time in the flesh, Dr. Carson Beckett. That had been pretty cool, even if it was hard to tell if he was a patient or a doctor, from the fuss going on. 

Then he was a little disturbed to take note of exactly what sort of homecoming they’d received. He'd been expecting congratulations for them, not some sort of interrogation.

Except, that was how it seemed to have panned out. 

He'd been keeping half an ear out for the goings-on with Sheppard, particularly once it seemed like they were going to be successful, but he'd really been hoping the group would get a hero's welcome. That just didn't seem to be in the books for them, and that was a shame. 

He definitely needed to catch up with, hell, find Sheppard. He'd been distracted with his own near-death experiences, but it sounded like there were some decent weapons in the Pegasus galaxy and there were a lot of rumors flying around.

So when he was thrown out of the Infirmary, Cam used his own network to take him in the right direction until he manufactured the situation of haphazardly running into John.

"Hey, Shep!"

Sheppard looked... distracted, stretched thin, like he'd been wandering the halls a little aimlessly, and maybe it had been. Cameron jogged a little to catch up to John. "Hey, Shep!"

He seemed to notice, then and turned, that familiar smile creeping back. "Hey Cam...Just got back from a trip?" As if John hadn't been away in a whole other galaxy.

"Yeah, gate mission, you, how're you... " Cam closed the space between them, and caught Sheppard in a quick, tight bear hug. "Congratulations!"

He didn't miss the tense and flinch before he relaxed. "Thanks... uh, for anything in particular?"

Sometimes he wanted to sneak up and set fire to all of the bureaucrats ties or something. Hadn't anyone told him he'd done something pretty amazing? "Oh, you know. The whole, finding the better part of a missing mission, bringing back guys we thought dead, resurrecting the lost city of Atlantis, you know." He clapped John on the back, hoping it would jar sense into him.

John gave him the smile he used when he was pretty strung out; he'd seen that a few times. "Oh yeah. But in doing that I apparently did some SGC no-no's. And the people I rescued are apparently regarded as something a bit like potential Goa’uld or something. Kinda put a bit of a dampener on a few things."

"You'll be fine. Hell, Doctor Beckett is back down in the infirmary -- it’s just, you know how Internal affairs is."

"Yeah. I know. But it might've been nice for someone to say, hey glad to see you alive." John shrugged and looked at him. "Carson? Did he seem okay? He's not recovered yet. I hope to hell they haven’t had him in there answering questions as long as I've been doing it...and Rodney."

"He seemed okay-ish. I haven't seen McKay, but I heard a rumor that was more of a Stalin joke." He watched the way John was looking at him, worn thin and drifting and he wanted to do something to fix it, except the parts of John that were broken were pretty hard to get your hands on and stitch together. "Hey. I'm glad to see you're alive. Really glad."

That got him a real smile, one of those startling unexpected grins that always made him wonder what Sheppard had been like before Afghanistan. "I'm pretty glad to see you too Cam," he said. "A friendly face at least. How's SG-1 going?"

""It's uh..." Sort of grim, actually, and Sheppard didn't need to hear that. "The Ori are still out there. It's touch and go, but every time we get through the gate in one piece, hey. It's a good day. I hear you guys uh, apparently are safe?"

"Pretty much. The Wraith are the guys who beat the Ancients, and the ancients had a fair amount of weaponry that we just haven't seen over on this side of things." John replied. "So... without them there, might be that we get to actually find a few things to help you guys."

And John _would_ be going back. He couldn't see them taking the post from John -- he was just too into it, too good at that kind of intense work that a place like that would take. "Hey, I'm sure the powers that be will get to that idea soon enough. Where were you headed?"

"To find Rodney. He had an operation on his eyes this morning. I'm willing to bet that he needs some sort of painkiller or something," John replied, and half-smiled. "And to make sure he hasn't reduced any random scientists to tears yet."

"I'll go with you," Cam suggested. It was more for John's sake than his own, but the least he could do was turn John around and get him actually walking away from leaving the SGC and heading into Norad. "I'm interested in meeting the infamous Doctor McKay."

"He's probably heard enough about you to not get too freaked out. You know where they might be... questioning him or shall we just wait for signs of incoherent rage?" John asked

"We could listen for signs of incoherent rage. You think he's probably still being talked at?”

"Maybe, or he got done in half the time," John said as they made their way up the corridor. "He talks so fast that..."

Abruptly he stopped talking, and walking and Cam had seen him hurt before. The anger he got in his eyes at a physical hurt, the determination, the patient riding through the pain but he'd never seen anyone look like John did in that moment. As if here and now he was watching something ripped apart in him. And he had no idea why, except for the fact that John's eyes were locked on a pilot heading their way.

He was just a pilot, just no-one that Cameron knew, a nobody, and John looked like the guy was gutting him as he approached and then walked past without saying a word.

"Hey, Shep..." It didn't look like the guy knew him and maybe he reminded John of someone. Plenty of that went around in a place like this. 

But Sheppard was just standing there, falling apart in a very internal way, not saying a word in the middle of a corridor. This wasn't going to do him any good. "Sheppard. We were going to go look for McKay..." Cameron reached for John, and maybe it was a mistake and maybe it wasn't, because John was just _standing_ there.

"I need a plane. Or... something. I need to fly." John said in a rough voice. "I need to go now."

"Why?" Cam squeezed his forearm. It wasn't good. He knew it wasn't good, but it wasn't the first time John had said as much about something. "You just got back, you're supposed to be taking it easy."

Sheppard didn't answer for a moment and then gave a half smile that was more of a grimace. "That guy just then? That was Leonard."

He said it with a tone that made it clear he didn't expect anyone to understand what that meant. But Cameron knew, he remembered nights and days of trying to talk Sheppard through it, trying to get him to just go on, look for the higher meaning to life rather than just Leonard. Who John had lived through hell for and Cam damn well knew that he was more than a little in love with.

And that, that nothing, that was *Leonard*? And he'd just blown past Shep like he was nothing. Had done nothing for him. "Jesus. He's not worth that, Shep."

"He didn't even..." Sheppard looked uncomfortable with himself and he could understand why he wanted to fly at least. A way of forcing himself to get back in control rather than lose it. "There's got to be something around here I can go up in. I'd fly a fucking crop duster right now... C'mon, Cam, help me out here."

"I'm, I don't know. He's not _worth_ it, you've done so damn much, Sheppard, he's not worth getting bent out of shape over." Sheppard was hero to a bunch of people who'd never be able to say it out loud and proud in public, but he was still a hero. He'd brought them back home. "Here, I'll -- I'll see what I can do, all right?"

"Thanks." John looked at him for a moment and gave a quirk to his mouth that clearly meant that he apologized for dumping this shit on him. "It's just that... Thing."

"The elephant in the living room," Cameron muttered, and he gave Sheppard an only slightly awkward one armed hug. "Okay, c'mon to the control room and we'll see what I can manage."

* * *

Carson was pretty sure he knew what state he was in better than anyone at the SGC, thank you very much, but he still had to wait patiently to be 'cleared' before they could be out of the tin can in the mountain and to whatever place they had been allocated. He'd been grilled until he was answering questions with his head pillowed on his arms and then they finally seemed to realize that he was possibly in need of a break.

Since then he'd witnessed Rodney find his way there, take over the place, berate the staff and practically start dragging him away from there bodily.

"I thought you'd have John with you," he said as they made an overblown exit.

"As if -- I'm lucky they let me out with my _pants_ still on. Apparently I should have changed into my moth-eaten SGC uniform before I set foot through the gate, so I could have looked like a hobo instead of a possible insurgent from another galaxy bent on killing monsters over here in some attempt to -- you know what, I cannot even finish that thought because it's so completely asinine. My head is killing me. We need to find John." 

At least Rodney made for a spectacular overblown exit.

"Mm. I killed a species, you know," Carson said dryly. "And I secretly yearned for command which is why, apparently, I didn't look for you, Elizabeth or Bates."

He was perfectly capable of generating his own guilt without have _more_ thrown in the mix.

"You hate being in control." Which was true, aye, and Rodney shot him a vaguely incredulous look. "Huh, I think yours was stupider than mine. Oh, and I'm apparently a slut. Or something. I'm not sure _what_ Woolsey was trying to imply."

"I've traded valuable SGC secrets to random people," Carson added just to put the full insanity into perspective. "And some other things that were too daft to remember. I wonder if John and Elizabeth had something similar. Or Evan..."

He was used to John appearing and they had to have finished with him by now. Hearing someone heading their way, he looked up, half expecting it to be John. It wasn't.

It was another member of the SGC, and Rodney didn't seem to recognize him any more than Carson . "Oh, they got me for that one, too. Apparently I wasn't supposed to keep myself from dying of radiation poisoning, and broke the traditional non-proliferation treaties." 

"I hate that when that happens," a new voice drawled and Carson paid more attention to the SGC man who had actually stood in front of him. "Doctors McKay and Beckett right? I've been looking for you guys."

"Aye, that's us," Carson said frowning a little. "You have the advantage of us both… Colonel Mitchell,” he said, reading off of the ID he could see. SG-1 as well. Huh.

Why would one of them be looking for them? Unless it was to start off round two of the interrogation, and Carson was really just ready for a steak, a beer and some sleep. A lot of sleep. An awful lot of sleep. 

Rodney drew himself up straighter, hands at his sides and half fisted. "Can I ask why you were looking for us?"

"I, uh. Look, just... step in here a sec, will you?" he said gesturing to a nearby door. "I met up with Shep. Need to talk to you a bit about him."

Stepping into another room was easy. The part that was hard was the cagey look that Rodney got as he did step into that nearby door, the way he stiffened up as if the man might be a threat. It was no wonder it had taken Rodney so bloody long to get out of interrogation, acting like that when he was unsure of what to do. "Go on, we're listening."

"Is there something wrong with John?" Carson asked sidling closer to Rodney to soothe him with his hand, automatically finding the right place on the small of his back.

"Yes... no. Well, in a manner of speaking," Mitchell replied. "Look, here's the thing, I've known Shep for a few years or so. I recommended him for the SGC and then they figured the ATA gene out and he didn't need a recommendation. He had a pretty rough questioning, which I know General O’Neill is going to be pissed as all hell when he hears about it. And he will. But, uh... he had a bit of a disturbing encounter afterwards and he's gone flying to get his head together, then the odds are he'll head to the nearest bar."

Rodney glanced at Carson, and then back towards Colonel Mitchell, jaw set hard. "What do you mean 'gone flying'? What happened?"

"It helps get his head together," Mitchell repeated and he seemed to be looking at them both. "John hasn't told you much about stuff before the SGC has he?"

"Not to me he hasn't,” Carson said, knowing he sounded perplexed. This was John, John who remained disturbingly calm at the prospect of his own death, or any surprise. Imagining him stressed out was very difficult.

"No, not to me. It, Radek said a little." Not much, because there just hadn’t been too much time for idle chit chat when the world was constantly ending around them.

"Well, hell." That seemed to make Mitchell pause. "Probably not my place to tell you then. Look, some bad sh...stuff happened out there. There was stuff to do with this guy Leonard and he hadn't seen him for... well, since it all happened. We just bumped into him here and he blanked Shep." Mitchell shrugged. "Guess it was enough to put him over. He's gone flying, I've seen him do it before – after a really tough mission, and he'll probably then go to the nearest bar and get stinking drunk. That might not be the best thing for his career right now."

Hell. No, not if he got involved in a bar fight, or something worse while he was drunk. He shouldn't be alone, Carson knew that, and Rodney was frowning at Cameron. "What did he take up?"

"He shouldn't be flying anything if he is upset," Carson added. This was crazy, they didn't even know what the problem was.

"He's up in one of the old model 301's. We call it the Crop-duster because we drag it out for the trainee's when they are learning. It never got souped up. It's as low powered as it gets and I could write it off as training rather than stealing." Mitchell said. "Look, I've got to go deal with the latest Daniel crisis, but I didn't want to leave Shep out like this. I mean, you guys are heroes."

"Funny, you can't tell that around here." Rodney crossed his arms over his chest. "Is the flight bay still where it used to be?"

"Yeah, but he won't be back down for a few hours or so, he had a decent amount of fuel," Mitchell replied.

Carson was appalled. "Am I the only one that thinks it's crazy to have someone upset and out of control up in a fighter plane?"

"Relax, he won't do anything," Mitchell replied easily. "I've never seen him do anything to hurt someone who wasn't trying to kill him or someone he is looking after."

"That's fine, we'll still wait there. That way we can intercept him." Assuming they were willing to let Carson and Rodney sit out there with all of those airplanes, which Carson seriously doubted.

"Good luck with that, they usually chuck me out," he said and then tapped at his radio making a face. "Yes, Daniel I'm coming, I heard you the first time. I can't wait to look over the Mayan based mystery writings."

He raised his hand to the pair of them and Carson frowned as he headed off. "They probably won't let us Rodney."

"We can linger on the other side of the door then. Look, do you have a better suggestion?" Rodney twisted, and he wasn't arguing or putting Carson off at least.

"I'd like to bloody well have a clue what this is about before we do anything." Carson replied. Rodney's vision had to be getting better as he was reacting well and tracking movement. "And we need to have details of somewhere we can take him out of harms way. Look, I'll go find out if they've given us one of the houses like we requested; you wait where ever you can nearby."

"He probably won't be down for a while, at least." The tilt of Rodney's head was speculative. "If you can find me a terminal first, and then ask about the house, I'll see what I can find out."

He didn't want to know or ask what Rodney was going to do, but the difference was now he accepted it had to be done. "We'll do that then," he agreed. "Just... don't get caught."

"Not planning on it." Rodney gave him a too-bright smile to go with his words, and offered his arm to Carson to steer him in the right direction.

If there was one thing they both knew, it was the fact that they had to stick together if they were going to make it through this visit. And if that meant spending time tracking down John and stopping him being stupid, well, Carson had done worse.

* * *

Hell was not being able to precisely and clearly see what he was doing.

His fingers were on the keyboard, and thank god for touchtyping because if he hadn't remembered how to do that he never would have gotten anywhere. If a half-blind man who hadn't touched SGC systems in years could hack them, they really needed to up their security protocols. There was top secret and then there was, well, what they were, and internally, if you could get in and find a terminal the place was wide open.

At least to him. Perhaps years of living on the edge of constant life and death had honed his skills. His vision was coming back. He could read words if he squinted at the screen and concentrated and it was a little like that time when he'd been young and been forced to go swimming in a pool with way too many chemicals and he'd come out and everything had a faint fuzzy halo around it.

He could handle that.

There was still an unshakeable feeling of awe that he _could_ see, that faces were starting to take shape out of blurs, that he could read and not have to switch views to find the right one for that specific form. He could just look and it was almost there. He'd be able to look at faces and _really_ see them, soon. Carson, and John, and hell, even what _he_ looked like. And John, he could find out what happened to John, why he was the way he was, because John knew too much about why Rodney was the way he was.

He'd had Radek making subtle hints and dropping the occasional reference but Rodney had never been that good with subtle. The visor had helped immeasurably because it gave him something quantifiable to work with instead of what felt like incredibly random guesswork.

Anyway, without it he had to resort to his hacking skills, which could slip in, have a poke around personnel files and get out again without a trace. He knew the contents of his own file, though after this had been written up he might just take a look in an exercise of masochism or something, and Carson's of course, because he didn't go out with someone into a actual relationship without poking around some.

And here he was... Colonel John Sheppard's file. The wonders of the electronic age where everything was digitized.

He was sure that, somewhere, there was a folder of weighty pieces of paper that explained John Sheppard's life but Rodney had always preferred to read screens to pages. General acceptance papers into the academy, then huh, a Masters in Mathematics from MIT, that was nothing to scoff at was it? They didn't let just anyone do that, get that kind of education, and MIT didn't take people out of pity, that Rodney remembered.

John ‘just doodled’ with math and let people believe he was stupid. Military career. Varied... seen a lot of action. Huh, a lot of pilot skills. The comments from instructors were particularly interesting with things like "Sheppard could make a sheet of metal fly," and an impressive amount of commendations for successful missions. Nothing too out of the ordinary but he knew from the size of the file there had to be something meaty in there. 

Afghanistan. A big alert there. MIA. Then a Presumed Dead notification.

Then a debriefing afterwards, and Rodney leaned close to the screen, squinting harder, trying to reach past the headache so he could concentrate and read the words on the screen. Tortured, held for months, it was starting to sound familiar, if you replaced Afghan with Genii, right up until John's testimony about the cross and near death by crucifixion.

That, that was unexpected. And in the background, here and there in the retelling that was making Rodney's chest hurt as much as his head, there was a mention of Leonard Holland. Leonard, the other guy who was there, the one Sheppard disobeyed orders to go after, the one who apparently couldn't be assed to say 'hi' to the man who'd saved his life.

There was link file in the corner, to some sort of media file that had apparently been recovered in a raid and linked to the case. He paused a moment before clicking on it, watching it play. And half wished he hadn't. It was one thing to read about what had happened, and another to _see_ it.

Taped crucifixion. It was simple, really. A man hoisted up onto a cross, same as the old days, struggling to breathe, screaming and yelling and god, that was John. That was _John_ , that blurry figure, part of some fucked up propaganda tape or maybe it was a demand for money. A ransom. Rodney wasn't sure what the hell it was, other than impossible to watch and he’d never been glad not to be able to make out details before, but he thanked god for blurred vision just then.

And John had survived it. He'd rescued his friend _after_ that. Apparently.. .according to the report, he had freed himself from the cross despite looking pretty dead there at the end, streaming with blood and hanging limp, and crawled across, freed this Leonard while apparently having more broken bones than Rodney even knew existed in the body and this Leonard guy wouldn't even talk to him?! For fucks's sake...

He skimmed the medical reports because they were all ‘near death,’ and doctors gushing about miracles and determination to walk again and the power of will to overcome physical difficulties. The psychiatric ones were a little more revealing.

_'John still retains an ability to focus obsessively on certain individuals. He remains attached to Major Holland, despite physical separation. He finds it impossible to disassociate from his need to see if 'he is okay'. He has managed to project a focus on survival onto other individuals so their survival is equated with his own more completely than with his own self-preservation. He has certain psychological triggers that engage this intense emotional mode, including abandonment, rescue and protection.’_

And John had been the one, according to Radek, who had pushed to get the original Atlantis Expedition back. To make contact with them at all, to get that extra ZPM that would allow for it to be done. Was that a new and creative way of seeing of Major Holland was still okay? Except on a bigger group of people.

And now the letdown again. They were okay and he was in trouble for it again, and, and Rodney wished he understood people better. It didn't make sense. Maybe Carson would make more sense of it. He just couldn't imagine anyone wanting to ignore John, especially if they owed him their life.

He flicked through the other pages, noting a psychiatrist report that had a discussion of reactions to the incident where John had been informed that he was in fact not saving Holland any more but hurting him. It would appear that whether he knew it or not, he had been on suicide watch protocols. Speculation of a relationship was made, of John turning to complex math because he couldn't fly. ...It was regarded as almost an autistic means of dealing with stress. Rodney looked over some of the examples, squinting to bring the equations into focus.

They were pretty impressive, but not in the least autistic. It was work, and it was something to set the mind on other than the gnawing worry. He'd honed and rehoned and rehoned any particular project he was working on during any time of stress. It was just... what worked. It was beautiful, in its own way.

And reading the screens was making his head start to really ache.

He knew enough. He knew enough to know that it was a damn miracle John seemed to be as balanced as he was... To have a clue why it seemed to be stupidly easy for him to just go into situation where he might die and think nothing about it and Rodney was pretty sure he didn't want that to happen.

"Rodney?" Carson's voice was soft behind him. "You find anything?"

"Plenty." Rodney sat back, and pushed the sunglasses up to press at his eyes. "Do you want to read it?"

"I'll skim over it," Carson said sounding a little uncomfortable. "Your eyes are sore? Or have you strained them?"

He leaned to look over his shoulder at the laptop.

Rodney sat back, rubbing at his eyes. "Not sure. Just -- the video. Try that."

"Try not to rub them Rodney. Just keep them closed a little, and we'll go back to the house and you can have a rest before we track down John."

He heard Carson click on the video clip and an almost immediate, "Oh bloody hell", and the sounds made him feel almost physically sick.

"We're tracking John down first," Rodney uttered quietly, and he stopped rubbing. Just lowered his hands and kept them closed for the moment.

He was only mildly surprised when Carson's hand found his and held on to Rodney, as if he was trying to protect him from what he was seeing as well. He could hear Carson's empathy get the better of him and wondered if things made more sense to him.

"Oh Rodney...I..."

"And it was *after* that, directly after that, that he made his, he saved the other guy's life, and that was the guy who just blew him off. No wonder John's..." Off in the sky, flying high.

"I've just looked at the notes. There's no way he should've been able to do any of that. Like when Kolya was in the infirmary at the tower. He's..." Carson seemed to be struggling for words. "He's wound up to that point near death where the possible and the impossible meet and he's been there all along."

"He's near ascension and he doesn't know it. That's... that's what he is." As Rodney understood it, as he could see with the Visor. Where the possible and the impossible blurred. "We need to find him and not let him go on a bender alone."

"I agree." Carson sighed. "I've seen him mainly as a rival for you – misinterpreted what he has been doing Rodney, worried for you in case he would break your heart but... it seems to me, he was the one who is used to rescuing and then ending up being broken. And he probably thinks that will happen again here. Actually I can't see how he can't think that given what happened."

"How did you -- what did you think he was _going_ to do? The whole time you were in a coma, he just made sure I was all right. No matter what Evan said or suggested, there wasn't anything... anything going on." A little kissing, a lot of sleeping, a lot of idle chatter and trying to get the Tower working again.

"Rodney, you haven't... _seen_ him. I know, I know you've seen him in Ancient view," Carson said. "But in plain old normal view he is... well, let’s just say no one else would see any issues with you dropping me for him.”

"Carson, the other thing about the visor is that I can tell whether people are basically good or basically bad." Deceptive and manipulative, not so much. "He's a good guy. He _glows_ with it. You do, too."

"And I know you do as well. I don't need a visor to tell me that," Carson replied and kissed him softly on the temple a little awkwardly around the glasses. "I care about John, but I want to know... do you want to try with him?"

And that implied leaving Carson, which was, which was impossible. Carson was comfortable, like his favorite jeans had been and his field cap. John felt comfortable in different ways, like a lazy Sunday afternoon or a really hot date. A really hot date on a Sunday afternoon, like coming back from a mission and just reveling in it. "Yeah. I do. But it shouldn't be an either or, or am I the only one thinking like that?"

"I originally suggested an accommodation to John and thought maybe it would be the both of us but not at the same time. He gives you something I can't Rodney, I can see that." Carson hesitated a little. "But it could be altogether. We allied with the Itherians and they do not have anything remotely resembling a monogamous relationship. That is seen as unhealthy and damaging and it open my eyes a little to the fact it is only preconceptions here that make me think it wouldn't work. I think it... could if you want that?"

"It wasn't exactly my eyes that Kolya and Jadon opened, but uh, yeah. I think it could, or else we'll just circle each other and it's not, John doesn't need that. You don't need that." He wasn't particularly up to it himself. Not after what he'd just seen and squintedly read.

"So perhaps we should take him home and have a long talk?" Carson asked. "Or put it into action as John seems to understand that better than words."

"Do we have a home? Where're they putting us?" Going somewhere, somewhere to rest and just be themselves, that sounded like a start.

"Not completely off the base but one of the actual houses," Carson replied. "We should go there. I've asked Evan to let me know when John comes back in and where he might be headed and we can intercept him with the drink if we get there quick enough."

"Great. That sounds. Yeah." A next to safe house. Rodney wasn't sure how smart it was to plan a homosexual liaison _on_ a military base, but hell. If they had to flee back to Pegasus through the gate, he'd organize it and they'd do it.

Except that he really needed to tell his sister that he wasn't dead, honest.

* * *

He probably shouldn't've downed the first beer quite that quickly – but then he couldn't remember the last time he'd had one. Part of the urgency had been for the taste of it, but mainly it was down to the fact he just wanted to stop feeling like this.

He'd thought he was okay about Leonard, he really had thought it was something he just had dealt with and moved on but...

He realized now that somewhere he had been secretly sure that it had been his wife that had stopped the contact, and that Leonard hadn't known and if they met again they could at least be friends. Or something. Mainly the ‘or something’ if he was pushed to admit things.

Leonard walking past, seeing him, meeting his eyes in a horrified recognition and then deliberately looking away just ripped everything apart. Poked around in an old wound ripped it open and dumped a ton of salt, acid or whatever the hell else there could be inside him.

One beer wasn't going to do much against that.

Twenty beers was probably not going to do much against it, because, because it didn't make sense. He hadn't _done_ anything to Leonard but been there for him, and Leonard stopped him cold in his tracks like that and just brushed past him. Like he was nothing. Maybe he was right.

He took a gulp of his second beer. He'd lost some of his tolerance to alcohol but that was okay. He could be a cheap drunk, because it was the drunk part he was aiming for right now. He'd saved Leonard’s life for fuck's sake. He'd pulled off some sort of stupid miracle and in the end he'd been the one broken to pieces keeping him whole and he would've thought that no matter how upsetting that was, how much he didn't want to remind him, he would've been there. Said thank you at least. Put his discomfort to one side for someone who had done that much for him.

But Leonard couldn't look at him. Hell, the sight of him was probably going to have him in screaming nightmares or something and that was probably just a bit damaging to the self-esteem. Maybe that was the way things were going to work. He got attached to people, broke himself into pieces trying to get them safe and then they couldn't bear to be around him because he was some sort of walking Post Traumatic trigger for the entire world.

And it was probably going to go that way all over again. He was attached to Rodney, attached to Carson, and they were safe now, on the road to getting better and being part of the SGC again, which was the signal to whatever higher power there was to boot him in the ass again.

Leonard had had his wife, and Rodney had Carson and the parallels seemed pretty obvious. And maybe he was taking too much credit. They had sort of rescued themselves as much as anything. He'd got shot and Rodney had saved him, Carson had saved him. Carson had saved all of them if it came down to that.

Fuck, he didn't know, and it just felt like he was empty of anything. The flying had helped, at least to the point of stopping him collapsing completely.

But this was the comedown. This was the part where his brain said 'hey, you can't fly forever' and drinking never fixed it. It just... deadened things for a bit. Probably by the next day, all of Rodney's half miserable ramblings about dragging them to see his sister would be gone into thin air.

"Wow, this place hasn't gotten any better in the last four years, has it?"

He glanced sideways, surprised.

"Aye, I think the pretzels are the same ones," Carson added, coming up on one side of him even as Rodney settled on the other, still wearing his sunglasses.

He frowned a little. Weren't they meant to be avoiding him? "What are you guys doing here?"

"We were waiting for you to stop flying around." Rodney stretched his legs out, leaning his elbows on the bar. "I'm not even sure I remember what beer tastes like. What're you drinking?"

"Beer of some description." He wasn't interested in the type just in the alcohol. His manners reasserted themselves. "You want a drink? I wasn't sure if they'd got your...your accounts live again. What'd'you want?"

"Technically I probably shouldn't have anything but I'm bloody well going to," Carson replied. "I was thinking about a good whisky."

"Huh, Vodka, I guess. Hey, they're putting us up in a house for a few days until we get some, uh, documentation straightened out. " Rodney was really leaning on the countertop, like he was disoriented or otherwise uncomfortable somehow. "And by us, I mean you, too."

John signaled for those drinks to be brought over and the barman was well experienced at just keeping his mouth shut. He paused a moment trying to process what Rodney had said. He had been pretty sure he would be put in one of the billets at the mountain. Where he'd been before.

"Oh, and Elizabeth and Lorne?" he asked just testing the waters a little.

Carson was busy nearly choking on his whisky. "I should be used to this after the moonshine graptha that doubled as a paint stripper. No, no not them. Lorne already has somewhere to go.. and Elizabeth."

"Probably looking up her live in doctor from before we left. I wanted to bet Carson money that he's picked up a floozy nurse and she's wearing Elizabeth's clothes, but he won't take me up on it." Rodney gestured vaguely, taking a sip of the vodka like it was slightly stinging water. 

He had a mild suspicion he was going to be outclassed in the drinking alcohol stakes. He already had a faint buzz going on from two beers.

"Because ... sadly it is probably true. If we were reported Presumed Dead," Carson answered with a slight shrug. "You know, we could do this back at the house. Take a few bottles back...no worry about breaking any confidentiality clauses."

"Which I’ve gotten too used to not having to worry about," Rodney admitted, taking another easy sip. "Nnh, the aftertaste on this is strange after so long. John?"

"Yeah?" This was weird. He might be a bit rusty, but it reminded him of someone trying to pick someone up at a bar.

"What do you think? Move this party somewhere more private?" Carson said and then unaccountably blushed.

Hell, maybe that _was_ what they were doing. Trying to pick him up and take him home with them, but that wasn't, didn't seem like something either of them would do. "We could talk non-circumspectly, without worrying about security clearance."

"Which is fine now, but a few drinks down the line and Rodney will be unable to help himself," Carson said in a teasing tone. 

John smiled a little and said, "Point.." He downed the rest of his beer.

So, they were going to take him home. Or where-ever they were headed. A house, if not a home. "Great." Rodney stood up a little quick, steadying himself against the edge of the bar with one hand. "Carson's driving. I'll flag down the bartender."

He got up a little slowly. Things were seeming a little surreal, especially as Rodney seemed to be intent on buying half the bar off of the guy. For a moment he was distracted because Rodney was leaning over and... He glanced away to see Carson watching him with a faint smile.

"It's not far," Carson said.

Which was good. It wasn't far, and Carson had caught him eyeing Rodney's round ass. If he was that not-subtle, it was a miracle that he hadn't been kicked out of the armed services. "It's actually pretty comfortable. Decent TV and sofa, not that I've been spending time with either of them," Rodney commended blithely from the bar, while the bartender packed everything into a brown paper bag.

"Aye well, we are a few years out of sync with the world," Carson said half steering him towards the door and he was sure he hadn't had _that_ much and he wasn't that drunk.

"We could order in something to eat?" he suggested. Rodney tended to forget to eat if someone didn't tell him to stop.

Which apparently hadn't been the old Rodney McKay. Radek had said he never missed a meal, or even snacks. Now, well, that was probably part survival and part Kolya's doing. "Oh! Pizza!" Rodney hugged the brown paper bag to his chest as they started towards the door, walking warily. "I want a huge pizza."

"We can do that," Carson agreed as he opened the door for him. 

"Is Rodney okay?" John asked. Maybe other people didn't notice it, but he tended to notice hints and clues that there was something wrong. "Rodney?"

"Headache, navigating unfamiliar territory." Rodney waved his free hand slightly. "Everything still looks like my eyes were just dilated."

"Why the hell did you come out here?" John said, know he sounded sharp with anxiety.

"Because he was worried about you John," Carson said amicably. "Get in the car. You two phone for a pizza. If we do it now, then it might be there by the time we get back."

"Do you actually have a phone, John? They gave me a cell phone in case we need to head back suddenly, but..." He probably couldn't see the buttons. 

"Yeah, here. I'll...What pizza do you like?” John asked getting out his phone and preparing to dial. “I know a pretty good one from when I was here not quite as long ago as you?" 

"Personally I'll eat anything, but get a lot. Rodney has been fantasizing about pizza for a while," Carson said as he unlocked the car.

"A huge one. I even started to fantasize about white pizzas, which is pretty off the mark for me, but it's the hot cheese and bread combination that really makes pizza great, so anything would go great with all this booze."

It was surreal. John dialed the phone, listening to Rodney paint erotic verbal pictures of pizza pies, and tried to place an order for a few pizzas, different kinds. They could live off the leftovers for as long as they were there on base. The surreal part was the drive, Rodney in the back seat with his eyes closed, John in shotgun and Carson driving, all three of them... going the same way. Same end point.

That wasn't in his experience. That never happened to him. He was never the one the ended up with people. He was the rebound guy, the hot guy to have a fling with, but he wasn’t in one place long enough to make something stick. Or he ended up being the worst nightmare.

By the time he had the order done, it wasn't long before they were at the house, and it was one of the pretty neutral places they had for usually the visiting civilian consultants. Decent enough furnishings, and three separate bedrooms, a sizeable TV and before he knew it they were there, and Rodney had sprawled out over the couch.

"I love this sofa." He declared it after he'd blearily abandoned the booze to a countertop. "Kolya had this lumpy _thing_ he passed off for a sofa, but this, this is stuffed foam heaven."

"You've barely met that sofa," Carson added putting down an array of glasses and bottles. "They left the fridge stocked. If you are staying on the beer John."

"I uh, I might," he answered hesitating about where to sit. Carson thwarted his move to the chair so he had to sit on the couch. "Wow...you're right. Forgotten how comfortable it could be."

Rodney was slouching comfortably, and he reached up to take off the sunglasses. "Hey, thanks for these. They've been pretty useful today."

"Your eyes doing any better?" John asked, noting that Carson had dimmed the lights already even as he headed out to the door again to get the pizza. They had to be a lot closer to the delivery place than they were up at the mountain.

And it wasn't exactly a peak time, or a really bizarre order. 

"Yeah. The blur is starting to fade. It's good enough to read a little. I can’t wait to see what they add to my file after that debriefing."

"Yeah, I know what you're saying there," John said taking another long swig. "I told them they could trust you."

"You trust me?" Rodney twisted a little, peering at John. His eyes still looked raw and scabbed at the edge of his eyelids, but there was blue in with the bloodshot squinting, and it was really nice to see that. 

"Well yeah," John thought that was obvious. "Sure I do." He knew how Rodney thought, what made him the way he was. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Oh, something to do with the fact that they think we might've gone native," Carson replied putting a pile of boxes in front of them all. "Or in my case, killed a species or thereabouts. Failed to rescue my superiors because I'm power-hungry..."

John nearly choked on his beer.

"Oh, that's rich. Hey, I'm still not sure whether to be impressed or saddened that they decided I'm a slut for people in positions of power. They used to joke that I couldn't get a date with my right hand."

"Don't believe that," John said automatically. "Any way it was a difficult situation for you... for you both. Kolya made you turn to him."

Was he doing that? Had he made Rodney turn to him? He drank a bit more and grabbed a slice of pizza. Leonard hadn't had a choice but... "He maneuvered the situation. It was... beneficial to us both. I know, looking back, if I hadn't had that facade to function within, I probably wouldn't have functioned. But I'm, I'm a lot happier now. There's nothing false about Carson, or you." Rodney leaned forwards and fumbled with the lid of the uppermost pizza box.

It smelt fantastic and he found himself scooting over closer to reach for a piece. Carson was still watching him and he wasn't sure how to deal with that. "No, I... uh. Sorry about not meeting you this afternoon, something came up."

"We heard a little about it." Rodney said it carefully, twisting to look at John or listen to him better, while he pulled loose a piece of pizza. "Carson, do you want some of this, or a different type?"

"There's a vegetable one in there somewhere. I'll have that." Carson went digging in the pile. "Good lord Rodney, surely you don't like anchovies?"

"Wait, wait... " John swallowed the mouthful he had, trying not to sound alarmed. "You know some about it?"

"Hmn, I've missed things like complaining about little salted fish on my pizza. And yes, we ran into a Cameron Mitchell? Who said he knew you, and uh..."

"Cam? But..." John felt suddenly unsettled. "What did he tell you?"

"Nothing much," Carson replied eating his slice. "But enough to make us a wee bit curious...god, this pizza is fantastic. And when Rodney gets curious, information falls into his lap somehow."

John went still. "What do you know?"

"If it's in your file, then I probably skimmed it." Rodney said it easily, blatantly, taking a bite of the pizza like that wasn't a huge violation of his privacy. John didn't even knew what was _in_ his file.

"In my _file_?" John was half shocked and half rooted to the spot.

"We know what happened to you in Afghanistan. Some of what happened with Leonard," Carson said softly and that made him pause and swig back the rest of that beer.

At least now he understood why Rodney had gotten so much booze.

"It's. The guy's screwed up, and that's not your fault. What happened to you in Afghanistan was more than anyone I know -- except you -- could get through."

"I don't want to talk about it..." John said automatically, trying to focus his words.

"But you do lad," Carson said gently. "You do because you're feeling alone and trying to find someone or something to latch on to because _him_ ignoring you had filled you with doubts."

John looked away from them both. If he thought he could stand he would've tried to leave.

"Which you shouldn't have, but self esteem is a strange, flighty creature. You're the last person who should be doubting yourself. You were _put on a cross_ , and you not only didn't die, but managed to stage a rescue like that."

Holy crap, they knew about that in detail, not just the 'taken prisoner by the Taliban’. He wondered for a moment if they'd seen that damn graffiti in the locker rooms about the 'Crucifixion Kid' and then realized neither of them would've been in there. "I was on drugs." He said that like it was an excuse rather than anything else. "Out of my head."

"John, there's no need to make less of it for us. I know exactly how much of a bloody miracle it was that you are even walking at all. Maybe you don't know how close to death you were afterwards, but I know medicine and you were in the ICU for a period of time that would've had everyone convinced you were dead or had suffered permanent effects." Carson chipped in.

"You're..." Rodney looked towards Carson, then back in John’s direction, eyes still bleary. "You don't need to talk down what you did, John. I've seen what you look like _inside_ , and it's amazing."

It couldn't be more amazing than Rodney and a multitude of galaxies unfurling over and over like a continually creating universe in front of his eyes. Even so, they just weren't getting it, and he was no good at telling them. "Look..."

There was nothing inside him, just hollowness and right now more alcohol than he was used to. "Look, I don't know what you guys think you know, but what happened there fucked me up beyond repair okay? I have weird reactions to things and people react badly to me okay? That's the size of it."

"Carson, are you reacting badly to John?" Rodney asked it in an arch tone, all smart-assed, not even glancing towards Carson.

"Not so I noticed. My reactions are pretty positive right now," Carson replied eating another slice of pizza. "John, I think Rodney is saying we're not likely to let go of you."

He didn't get that at all. "Why?"

"Because I _like_ you. I like your company. You're an interesting and smart guy. What's not to want?" Nothing about his good looks, but John figured Rodney would add that to the list in time. Once his eyes focused again.

He twitched a smile, unable to help himself, his control not what it should be.

"And fine looking, too," Carson replied gesturing with his pizza. "We've decided that we pretty much want to keep you."

That derailed him again. "Keep me?" he said staring a little. “What do you mean?"

"I'm thinking a large dog cage and a collar," Rodney deadpanned, chewing idly on a piece of crust. "God, I've missed pizza. I've eaten some pretty exotic things, but _pizza_ is one of a kind..."

John was lost momentarily to the sort of thoughts that he probably wouldn't've even entertained to himself under normal circumstances but there he was thinking about a collar and... crap, that shouldn't be a turn on. He'd been a prisoner, that sort of thing should not do anything for him and...

"You know, I think John's blushing a wee bit over there Rodney," Carson pointed out lazily as he drank some more scotch.

"While I was gone, I secretly became what some men would call a huge pervert. I like to think of it more as enlightened. We can, three people can work out pretty amiably, you know?" Rodney leaned forwards, ended up closer to John and reaching for another box of pizza to sample from.

"He's speaking from experience, " Carson said. "Now me? I was practically a bloody monk. I didn't have time or energy to have sex. Rodney has promised to go over a few things with me, but I could really use some support."

"You’re trying to seduce me here, aren't you? I'm not reading that completely wrong?" John said, eventually putting his glass down.

"Pizza, beer, and thou." Rodney smiled at him, but there was un-sureness under the bluster. Yeah., they really were. And the outcome mattered.

He had two choices. One was to leave, to get the hell out of there and not go down this path...

And stay hollow and empty, aching like someone had yanked out his guts with him still watching them, or he could take another risk. In the end it was all about risks and the courage to take them.

He sat back and his now empty hand found its way onto Rodney's sprawled leg.

It wasn't like they hadn't been intimate. They had, just sort of vaguely. Kissing and touching in ways that set him on fire, and sharing a bed, helping him shave. "Huh. Is that a yes?"

"Just kiss him and things like that will become irrelevant," Carson murmured. "If it is, I'm joining you over there."

"Move up, we'll need the room," John replied and taking this risk was like freefall. Terrifying, reckless and ultimately like flying.

"Wait, hold on." Rodney wolfed down one last bite of pizza before he abandoned the piece on top of a box lid. Then he moved up, up and almost right on top of John, leaning up to kiss him.

At least it hadn't been the anchovy.

Whatever the taste of it was, somewhere along the line it vanished into the taste of Rodney and an urgent need to kiss more... and more, and he was reaching for him because the inhibitions in his head that usually stopped him weren’t stopping him. 

And then there was warmth behind him and a hand sliding under his shirt as well.

Carson behind him, then.

There was a quiet laugh against his mouth, and Rodney leaned into him closer, pressing himself against John, lips parted so he could dart out his tongue, tasting John's mouth.

They'd kissed before but he had always had in the back of his mind that it shouldn't be happening, that he was kissing the partner of another man and while he might hold up his hand to being a bit of a slut, he did not poach. Even with Leonard, it had been Leonard making those first moves.

He kissed back, immediately responding to the extra touch behind him as well.

"You both look bloody fantastic like that," Carson murmured. "We should get you drunk more often."

Rodney broke the kiss, pressing his lips to the side of John's mouth, "I'm not even buzzed yet. God I've wanted to do this." And he hadn't, maybe he'd had restraint for the same reasons? It was hard to guess with Rodney.

"Why?" He wasn't sure why he was asking but as Carson chose that moment to tease over his chest and nipple, John gave a peculiar body shiver that was involuntary. 

"A wee bit sensitive there are we?" Carson asked in a soft lilting accent.

"We should get you naked," Rodney murmured against his mouth, and then his hands weren't clutching but curling, sliding down to grab the edges of John's t-shirt.

John grimaced a little. "I've looked better," he murmured. It was hard not to feel a little self-conscious about the way he looked under his uniform. Apparently scars faded eventually. But not yet.

"None of us are unmarked John," Carson replied in his ear. "There is a... beauty in them."

"Marks of survival." Rodney's fingers were warm against his stomach, tangling briefly with one of Carson's hands. "You've seen me naked. Didn't seem to be a problem."

"Well, no, because..." Because Rodney was Rodney and he was lean lines and glimpses of acerbic brilliance that endlessly fascinated him and there was that quality about him that called him to him. And in Carson. Not as well developed because Carson had looked after him and he wasn't as comfortable with that even though he sort of wanted it.

"Because he's Rodney." Carson finished. "I know, it's a strange thing. I think I described him once as strangely addictive." His clothes were being slid off and John hoped they would be joining him.

There was nothing that could make him more wary about being naked if he was the only one who was doing it. Rodney's cheeks were turning pink, a surprising blush that was probably going to slide into red. "The first one of you to make a crack joke will regret it."

"Mm." Carson replied even as John smiled a little touching the warmth of Rodney's cheek a moment. "Rodney why don't you share a few of those suggestions you've told me about John, hmm? He seems a little uncertain."

Rodney leaned back for a moment, starting to take his own clothes off. "There's so many choices. I want to start with you in bed, the two of us in front of and behind you, learning all of those interesting scars without letting you get off. But I didn't factor in the booze, or how incredible it feels to actually _have_ you nearly naked here, so I think I over-estimated my self control.”

"The good thing is that he's got good stamina. And he did say something about giving you an orgasm for every scar you had," Carson pointed out. "Rodney is relearning his more active side in sex. Turns out there are a lot of things he was a party to that he'd like to try out on someone else. As long as you're not uncomfortable with that?"

"No, no I'm..." John sounded a little dazed even to himself. "Sounds good."

"It'll feel good, too," Rodney murmured, pressing against him again once he's shrugged off his shirt. "We could get off the sofa, and pick a bedroom, any bedroom."

"They have double beds or kingsize," Carson murmured. "Let's go. You are okay with this aren't you? We haven't exactly asked what your preferences are."

John shifted slightly so they could get up. "Sex, pretty much," he said. This was like some really hot dream.

"That's a pretty good preference." Rodney was smiling, bleary eyed and wide awake at the same time, and his hands were on John again, that same tactile way that John had always known him to be. "Nothing more specific?"

"Open to pretty much anything," John replied as he got them up, shirtless but still in possession of his pants. "Pitching and catching and ...I'll try most things."

"Believe me, you will," Carson put in. "If Rodney has anything to say about it. Endlessly inventive."

"I've missed being endlessly inventive." There was a story to that, and John knew what it implied, but he was really more interested in how Rodney followed after him, fingers pulling at his belt.

He pretty much wanted everything. He wanted to fuck and be fucked and hey, today might be his lucky day. He wanted someone to make him _feel_ something. He couldn't find words say what that meant but he wanted it. He felt a quickening at the talk of the unusual and inventive because it was usually him trying to do that. "What do you like most?"

His pants were slipping.

"Me?" Carson sounded amused. "We'll I'm liking the fact that we have you to focus on. I'm not as worldly as some, although I'll have you know I'm a world champion at finding a man’s prostate."

"He's masterful. If he opened his own practice he'd have men forming a line to get in once word got around." Rodney lifted his eyebrows at John when he said it, popping the top button of John's jeans.

John found himself smirking at the thought of it. "Yeah? I might need proof."

"Very willing to oblige," Carson said as they made it into the nearest bedroom, done out in bland creams and neutral colors.

And his pants were coming down and the alcohol buzz saw little in the way of a problem with that.

This was good. This was the first time in a long time that one person, hell, two people that he thought highly of had shown a sexual interest in him. Carson was probably just doing it for Rodney, but Rodney pretty obviously seemed to want it to work out. Maybe it would and maybe it wouldn't, but he would have at least tried it. Be not lonely for a little while. "Hey, and none of us brought home any space STDs according to the docs, so if you're -- condom or to not condom is up to you."

"I'm cool either way, though..." John smiled a little. "Been some time since I did without." And the thought of it was nearly enough in itself to get his dick twitching.

"I don't think Rodney's used one for a while," Carson replied. "They were in short supply in Pegasus."

"Not much sense in prophylactics when the enemy is trying to eat your people into extinction." Weir was probably planning a dissertation of sexual awakenings among population-threatened peoples or something, the human equivalent of the gender change Carson had stopped the wraith from--

And Carson had a hand on John's ass, sliding down between underwear and skin.

"Okay, you guys really have to catch up, otherwise I'm going to be naked and drunk and feel pretty much like the odd one out here," John said, leaning a little against his hand. "If it's some weird roleplay thing, can we wait until I'm sober enough to appreciate it."

"A weird roleplay thing huh?" Carson squeezed just a little. "What do you think Rodney?"

"None of those had crossed my mind lately, but I could come up with some for later."

And Carson was still pressed against him, feeling his ass, sliding a finger down along his crack. "You could always help with the undressing."

"Y'know, I think I will..." John drawled a little and then reached for Rodney's top, a smirk on his face he could do nothing to stop even if he'd wanted to. He didn't want to stop Carson doing whatever he was doing back there, but he did want some general nakedness in the area.

All of them naked, all three of them, so it seemed a lot less likely that someone would jump out of the bedroom closet and shout 'you're on candid camera, Soldier!' The only thing he wanted to be paying attention to was Carson's drifting hands, the way Rodney moved to help John in undressing him, shrugging out of the shirt. "God."

John liked Rodney's skin, like the feel of it under his fingers and the fact that he was lean without being too hard and overly muscular. He liked the way that Rodney seemed to need him close when they had shared the same bed. Not in a way he tried to explain, but in a way that was like breathing – that it should be self-evident why he wanted to be close.

That was the hook that kept him there, despite his common sense and cynicism. He couldn't give that up any more than he could stop himself from breathing.

And now he had not just one, but two men who seemed to not just want but need him and okay, he was a little drunk but right now it seemed a fantastic idea to lean forward and start sucking on Rodney's neck and down to his now exposed chest.

Rodney exhaled, and his hands abandoned John's underwear to fumble with his own zipper. "Oh, that's a weak spot, that's the best weak spot anyone ever finds, Jesus."

"He has a lot of those weak spots," Carson commented even as his own underwear were tugged down and he heard a belt unbuckled behind him. Much better.

He stopped sucking for a moment to smile. "C'mon, sooner you're both undressed and on the bed I can suck more than just a couple of weak spots."

"Distracting me," Rodney muttered, and he leaned into John for a moment, sliding out of his own pants and underwear in one motion.

"You’ve done that before," John murmured taking him, holding him close.

Carson was obviously intent on investigating anything he could. "On the bed, both of you. I think we could...take our time over this after all Rodney."

"Drunk and slow, huh?" Once they were skin to skin, John wanted to savor, wanted to feel more of Rodney, wanted Carson's sliding, questing hand, the finger that teased at his asshole before disappearing. Carson was probably undressing himself the rest of the way.

"Mm, yes." Carson was guiding him firmly over to the bed and he found that a little surprising that he would be the one almost coordinating this whole thing. But he was on the bed and then there was the shift of weight behind him and Rodney in front of him and things were looking pretty good from all angles. 

"Rodney," he murmured and now he could reach pretty much everything.

Rodney was naked, lean and easy-muscled, pressing close against his front which pushed him close back against Carson. John wished he could just take in the sights, spend a little more time taking it all in.

Of course Rodney probably was still all about touch and feel, sound and scent so he was moving in, and hey, it was pretty cool to be sandwiched like this. It was everything he'd missed and wanted and believed was never going to really come to him.

His made himself busy with his mouth, feeling Carson kissing and apparently licking and sucking along every scar he had on his back. It made him incredibly sensitive to any touch.

And Rodney was touching, sliding fingers over his stomach, his chest, one hand sliding down to wrap around his dick, Rodney's legs moving, bumping against and then one of them hooking over John's. All the while he kept kissing John, pressing him back against Carson. There were noises, too, quiet groans.

It was making it hard for him to get to what he had been aiming for, but what they were doing felt so damn good he was pretty much making huffed noises into Rodney's skin as he hitched a breath every now and then.

Carson was very methodical about the scars on his back, murmuring soft words and moving inexorably downwards.

It felt good to just get caught up in it, to just feel them and what they were doing to him. Rodney inched up, kissing the edge of his mouth and then his left cheekbone, before he started to inch his way down, sucking on John's right nipple, hand still wrapped around his dick.

He couldn't lie still for that, not with the best will in the world. The "Rodney..." that came out was almost a low growl as he pushed against him. He wanted to suck something, someone, especially when he felt slick fingers actually push inside him for the first time.

That was good. That was great, and it made him wonder where the lube had come from unless one of them had stopped at a drug store. John didn't think that the military had started to stock places. "Hey, you like this?"

"Are you joking?" Carson murmured. "He loves it, even if he is a little impatient.."

He hadn't had anything in him in a very long time and the fingers made him groan and so did Rodney’s hand on his cock. "Rodney... I want to... godammit..." he bucked a little as Carson showed he wasn't all talk about his reputation. "I want to suck something. You. Carson, I don't care what."

Rodney pulled back, grinning up at him. "So you're not just going to lay back and think of England? Maybe you and Carson, Carson, we could trade, it..."

"I should've known you'd want his ass," Carson said with good humor. 

"Look, you can both have it, but right now I want to be doing something a bit more ...into this than...kinda flailing every time someone hits a spot,” John said and then did just that as Carson stroked inside of him again.

Beckett laughed a little. "Sorry John."

Rodney pressed his face against John's chest, laughing. "I guess none of us can do passive, huh?"

"Only if you make me," John managed smiling himself. "Which I'm surprisingly okay with if I trust the other person. People. Which I do, but... look, we can all be active together. One takes my ass, the other my mouth and problem solved right?"

"I was going to say want to toss for it?" Carson said and John just knew he was smiling. "But you might get the wrong idea."

Rodney's fingers squeezed tightly. "Or the right idea. We, okay, that's what sixty nine was invented for."

"With three of us? Wouldn't that be...uh..."

Words failed him again ad Carson carried on teasing him.

"You want to swap over then? We can do this and John's a little distracted right now," Carson asked.

Rodney's hands slid, feeling over his sides, fingertips lingering over his ribs. "You feel gorgeous. Carson, Let's... coordinate this somehow." Rodney started to shift, one leg sliding over John's legs.

Skin on skin and he just wanted him. He half ambushed his mouth to kiss him as he started moving and moaned as Carson pulled away from him. 

"I'm not as familiar with the logistics of three in a bed as you are Rodney, you tell me the best way."

"It sort of just was a free for all," Rodney muttered against his mouth before he looked at Carson, still moving. Rodney behind him and Carson in front of him -- and at least now he felt like he could move, could touch them back.

He needed it too much to not try. He was craving it, hungry for it. He wanted more and he transferred his kisses seamlessly to Carson.

Carson was a great kisser. Different to Rodney in a way that couldn't be easily compares but slower and deeper, compared to Rodney's intensity. He also had very deft sure hands and when he kissed him back he muttered in what sounded like Gaelic which was soft and damn well sexy to him.

Rodney behind him felt right as well, his hands never leaving his skin.

"Yes, well... now it’s a three for all..." Carson murmured kissing behind John's ear. "I almost want to stay this way and just kiss, but if I swap we can both get some action."

"I can’t wait until I can really see this." Rodney's voice sounded delighted, sated, as he slid a hand down John's back, apparently intent on picking up where Carson had left off.

"Shouldn't be long," Carson replied. "You've been doing much better than I hoped. Hopefully tomorrow you will be near to normal vision."

John didn't know how he could talk about _that_ and then calmly lie himself down so his cock was near John's mouth and his mouth near John's cock. He didn't waste time though.

It was like, for Carson, sex was casual. It was like drinking tea, except it was sucking cock and kissing, and god. God, Carson knew how to suck cock, taking the head into his mouth and slurping softly while Rodney slid two fingers into John’ ass, kissing the nape of his neck.

"Oh god..." he moaned a little because it really had been a long time and then he distantly remembered that he was meant to be doing something as well, and started work on learning Carson's taste and texture, and seeing how easy it was to get a rise out of him.

He wanted more than Rodney's fingers though, and his movement backwards indicated that.

"So hot, so fucking tight." Rodney kissed his shoulder, pressing closer against him, his hard dick rubbing against the back of John's thigh. Fingers and two cocks to keep track of and Carson sucking lazily on him.

He huffed a breath and drew back. "Rodney... Mckay, I want you in me..." He wasn't pleading or exactly demanding, just trying to make it a statement of fact.

"Now?" Rodney twisted his fingers, and just held them inside of John, a tempting pressure while he mouthed over John’s shoulder-blade.

"Are you trying to kill me here? Yes, now!" John groaned against Carson's erection. "Carson, can't you make him hurry up?"

There was a pause and Carson chuckled. "You'd be amazed at the things I can't make him do."

"Shockingly, it's a long list." Rodney shifted, pulling his fingers out. Maybe it meant he'd _do_ it soon, quick, because even Carson was playing with him. It wasn't right to toy with a guy like that.

He was beginning to think that these two had him outclassed in the sex stakes. He decided that returning to sucking Carson off might help. It would take his mind off of what Rodney was doing or not doing.

"A very long... bloody hell!" Carson had been taken by surprise. "You wait until he does this to... to you Rodney."

"This is one upmanship at its best." John felt that against his skin as much as he heard it, and then fingers were prying at his ass again, spreading his cheeks.

The groan then was genuine. It had been a long time since he'd had sex and longer since he'd done this – him temporarily hosting O’Neill’s and Jackson's reunion fuck-fest didn't count.

It didn’t count if he wasn’t there to feel it, and he was feeling Rodney. Felt him move, felt him shift and press close, hips against asscheeks, because he was pressing his slick cock against John's asshole, sliding in without waiting for John to adjust. 

"Oh, fuck."

He swallowed hard against Carson's cock then, feeling the reaction reflected on his own as he moaned as well. He couldn't help it, he clenched hard around Rodney.

"What are you doing to him?" Carson queried breathlessly. "I'm not going to survive what he's doing either."

Rodney laughed against John's skin, and shifted, inching his hips back before pushing in again, a motion that made John ache and made his dick weep. "Just, just enjoying this, John, you feel..."

"Mm.” John managed, feeling the burn and stretch in his ass so complete it was filling his concentration. Fuck, he wanted to move. His hips flexed and he could feel the slide into Carson's mouth that made him suck hard in response.

That was what Rodney meant about free for all. Every motion made him want to move more, every shift of Rodney made him want to go forwards, backwards, into Carson's mouth, sucking Carson's dick.

He had no choice in the end but to move, to eventually come up for air as Rodney seemed to hit his stride and he gave to every thrust, making noises he wasn't sure of himself. John gripped at Carson to brace himself so he could push back and move.

It seemed to be something Carson liked, hands clutching tightly to his ass, because the sucking turned more enthusiastic, a pace that didn't stop, pulling him towards coming before it seemed like Rodney was anywhere near to it.

He nearly cried out a protest but with what passed for thought in his sensation dominated mind he realize he had plenty to do even if he did come. He just let himself go with it, letting that sensation tie himself up in knots towards that unbearable point as he sucked hard then on Carson, to bring him up to speed.

If he was going to come, Carson was going to come, too. He was going to feel it, he was going to feel just what John felt, and maybe he could sneak a finger around, push it into him.

He just about managed to coordinate that as he was hitting the point of no return. He felt and heard Carson gasp, and then relaxed into Rodney pounding into him hard until he came, unable to even warn Carson due to the fact he had a cock in his mouth at the time as well.

It felt good, good to just let go into the sensation, good to just drift with it and feel the thrust thrust thrust of, fuck, yes, a hard cock in his ass, Rodney's motions a little desperate. He was still kissing John's shoulders, neck, and a hand was looped loosely around his body. "God, fuck..."

Carson was still moving against him, clutching his legs and torso and that felt good. It felt good not to be alone and that more than anything was with him as he instinctively found the spot to tip Carson over the edge and he finally lost control.

And behind him, he could feel Rodney moving, losing his steady pace, burying his face against John's shoulder and groaning hard.

Now he could arch properly into those last few movements, encourage him to go for it, to let loose. He could stand it, he wanted it because even now it burned inside him, skin against skin and sometimes he wanted a bit of force even if he didn't exactly know why.

It wasn't even words anymore, from Rodney, it was sounds and gasps and hard hard thrusts, his arm around his waist tightening, squeezing harder. That was Rodney losing control, trying to get into him harder, and then he lost his pace, stuttering thrusts.

And he could feel the heat and warmth inside him when Rodney climaxed inside of him and the clutch against his body had enough to leave marks even as he let himself go loose until Rodney was spent.

Rodney slowed, stopped, sagged against John's back. He was breathing hard, pressing kisses and quietly laughing. "Wow."

John groaned a little and tried to motivate his muscles to work. In defiance of anything they had completely relaxed and he was unable to even really move.

"Bloody hell... if that's how things start off, I don't know if I'm going to survive this relationship," Carson said, rolling over a little.

"Surviving is not optional." Rodney shifted, pressing closer against John's back. His arm was back around John, like he was willing to go to sleep just like that.

Surviving had been what he had been doing all his life and in the last hour he had come to a sharp, painful realization that *that* was different to actually living. It was the difference between enduring and enjoying.

"We can do better than just surviving,” he murmured stroking down Carson's leg and seeing the startled look the other man gave him and then tentative genuine smile.

He liked that look, the way that the other man's face lit up like that. He could get to see sights like that more than once or twice in a lifetime, if he stayed with the two of them, and that was worth the risk. 

"Yeah," Rodney murmured from behind him in sleepy agreement.

Right then John wasn't thinking about the difficulties that were going to be involved in navigating the minefield of Don't Ask Don't Tell, because he was encouraging Carson to turn around and lean into him. He got the impression that Carson didn't have many people that looked after him as much as he did to others and that was one thing that would change.

The feeling was something light and strange inside him, and it took him a while to realize it was either happiness, love or hope - or all three mixed together. Whatever it was, it made everything previous become two dimensional which at once scared him and filled him with anticipation. If he could do all he had _before_ for something not as real as this there would be no limits on what he could bring from himself for something real.

Maybe even the courage to learn how to live.

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

He was possibly catching up on years worth of sleep.

That was what Rodney had enjoyed best with Kolya, having time after missions to wind down, to pull himself off the rails for a little while, to rest and breathe and get his blood pressure down again. It was good to have that again, just companionship and going back to the mountain for more 'interviewing' yes, but a lot of resting. A lot of enjoying life with Carson and John, and a lot of being amazed at how good it could all be.

After all, he was in the middle of the bed, stuck between the two of them, and maybe he was a little overheated, but it was heaven.

John, it seemed, was revealing even more of a sense of humor than Carson had given him credit for and he was starting to get used to his low rough chuckle, usually after he did something to make Rodney yelp. What was even better was the way Carson and John were warming to each other rather than tolerating each other for his sake. He wished he had the visor so he could see what he was sure would be a bloom of protectiveness in John's colors and a fading of that filigree of exhaustion in Carson's.

He could check for sure when they made it back home, but until then he was starting to see more clearly. It was easier to navigate, and each day brought another level of visualization back to him. Carson had been right – it was like nothing had ever happened. It was like, well. He didn't want to think about what it implied about Kolya, but eventually he'd have to consider it. It wasn't that he was defending the man in his head, either – more like, defending three years of decisions he'd made in light of a relationship that hadn’t been real.

It didn't help to experience how different this relationship was, even in its infancy here and now. He wasn't controlled in the same way, but John and Carson seemed to recognize his need for security now and provided it in different ways. Carson's delight when he came up with some idea of something _he_ wanted to do encouraged him to do that even more. Okay, it drew on his past experience with Kolya and Jadon, but that was all to the good and so far the sex was incredible. John seemed pretty much willing to do anything and Carson would go along with most things.

He hadn't opened his eyes yet today, and he could hear John shift a little next to him.

Rodney turned a little towards him, cracking his eyes open slowly. There was a delight in being able to see again, in not having to trust those around him to direct him and help him navigate the world. Carson wanted to just sit with him and watch a sunset with him, he'd said, except Carson didn't realize that he looked like one, himself.

All fire in the sky and sun blazing to a burnished midnight blue with the flicker of early stars.

After a cautious moment Rodney realized he could actually see. There was no blurring, as through hazy fog that smeared features into a blobby mass. He was looking at John's hand and seeing every detail.

It was hard to not give in, reaching for John's fingers to really study them, when he realized he could finally look at John's face, see him outside and inside -- and that made him tilt his head up to see.

Carson hadn't been wrong. Even now, with his hair wild and mussed and eyes closed he could see the fine muscles and defined shape of his features. His mouth he knew so well by touch, he could see in every detail.

The lines of it, the lines at the corners of John's eyes, the edges of his mouth, the shape of his nose. He could see everything, and John as breathtaking up close and in the skin as he looked in the Visor, stunning. Not male model stunning, but real, solid person stunning.

When John opened his eyes, obviously sensing someone staring at him, his eyes nearly took his breath away.

"Hey Rodney," he said and this time he could see the slight smile he had been hearing in his voice for so long.

"Hey." He could barely stop grinning at John, feeling a little stupid because he was there, had been there all along, but there was something about seeing him as more than colors or energy forms. Not that the physical body wasn't another energy form, but. 

"You seem to be focusing a little more this morning," John said looking up at him and no one had the right to look that good this early in the morning. "Either that or you're seeing something really weird?"

"Your face. I can – you're handsome. Morning." Not being able to see faces had made things _easier_ with Acastus, if Rodney thought about it, easier to separate the man he lived and worked with from the one who'd cut his arm open. But instead of separation, this was like putting pieces together.

"You're calling me handsome after how you ran us ragged last night?" John asked a little incredulous. "No wait... that means you can see right? You can actually see?"

"Really see. I can see your pores, your eyelashes, your eyes, it's..." Details, down to the last details, he could see it all, and he wanted to see more, just keep looking at John. And when he was done staring at John, he could soak Carson in.

"You know, you have really nice eyes as well," John replied. "I've had Carson describing how nice they are enough times. He wasn't kidding around. But that's not exactly manly morning talk. I thought I heard you claiming you knew every inch of me already?"

"Knowing and seeing are different things." He blinked, still fixated on John's face. He'd felt his scars, too, but he wanted to see them sometime. "If you want manly morning talk, we could get up and get breakfast going before Carson wakes up."

"We could yeah. And bring it back to bed for him. He needs more rest. Doctors make worse patients than...well, me I guess." John grinned then at him. "But seriously, there are better looking people out there. I thought I was going to be a let down after Ancient view."

"Ancient view was pretty enticing." Rodney leaned over him slightly, just to lay a kiss against his mouth, just to take a taste. "But seeing you, you seem more real. It's..."

"Mmm..." John half smiled. "Doesn't get more real than rumpled morning after.” His arms were suddenly around him, playfully tugging him closer. "You need a shower McKay... hate to tell you this."

"Are you suggesting we share a shower?" Because if it was, then he could get the up close and personal look at all of John.

"Yeah, why the hell not?" John replied. "Conserve water – gotta be a good thing right?" He started to sit up, even as Carson gave a little snore next to them both. "If Carson wakes up he can join in. If not we'll both get him tomorrow?"

"I could get used to having free time like this." Rodney shifted back, carefully squirming out from beneath the blankets.

"It won't last forever. Unless we all get taken off the project," John glanced at him. "I didn't think you wanted that?"

"No." He managed to get up and standing, barely shifting the sheets from the bed. "No, I don't."

"I don't either," John replied. "I miss Atlantis." He shrugged a little as he stood up but he was already walking towards the bathroom so it was difficult to get more than a glimpse of his scars.

Rodney contented himself to follow, keeping his voice low and mellow. "I miss Pegasus. I never thought I would."

John reached in, turned on their shower and then unselfconsciously turned to face him. "You're probably meant to develop a phobia about it or something. They thought I would over Afghanistan. There were still parts of it that were... beautiful I guess. "

"The Genii cities were amazing, and their devotion to their people was enviable." Rodney shrugged his shoulders loosely, reaching for John like he would have before. 

"I didn't like what Kolya did, but in his own way he was doing what he could to save everyone. I guess I can relate to that," John replied. There were marks all over him. Ones that stood out more now they were entering the shower. The images of the video flashed to mind.

He wanted to soothe those scars away, even though he knew that no amount of touching could fix any of it. "We all can. Desperate times..."

"It didn't make it right Rodney," John said in a low voice tugging him in. "Not at all." John’s hands were on him again and he wondered how long this tactile communication would keep up with John no doubt being called back to active duty no matter where he was posted and having to keep up the front required by the military.

There were always locked doors, at least. He had that going for him, and as long as John ended up back in Pegasus with them, they'd have a lot more leeway. If he looked at it optimistically, because Pegasus had brought them space-vampires.

"No, just... It's still something I’m having trouble with." Rodney shut his mouth for a moment, tipping his head back into the shower's head.

"You know Carson's the one who knows about feelings," John murmured and a finger trailed over one of his longer scars. "But you know I understand. As much as anyone can I guess. I thought I was okay with everything. I'm not."

"Wait, okay with everything ever, in general, or okay with me and Carson and the SGC?" Because if he was having problems with that, and Rodney hadn't noticed, and of course he wouldn't notice because he didn't have the visor.

John chuckled a little. "I'm okay with you guys. Pretty amazing but true. I meant from getting over stuff. Leonard. The issues on my issues. You know, I think that's the most I've spoken about it ever."

"Hey, Leonard is... That guy's screwed up." If _he_ could still feel and war about his feelings towards Kolya, with the inklings of all that he'd done, that Leonard guy damn well had no reason to be twisted up and cold to John. 

Rodney wrapped one hand around John's arm, fishing for the soap off to the side.

"I reminded him of what happened, all of the bad shit that he went through, " John said mildly. "That was the long and short of it. Guess I remind a lot of people about the worst time in their lives."

He was looking at him as if he was asking him some sort of implicit question along with that statement, even as he helped him with the soap.

"Hey, and for some people you remind them of the best times of their lives. I can _see_. I'm alive. I'm back on Earth, at least for a little while. You helped us defeat the Wraith. You, you are in no way the worst thing to happen to any of us." He rubbed the bar of soap against his own hip to start to froth it up, before he fell into the easy motions of cleaning someone else, starting with John's chest. He'd done that for Carson, too, and there was a certain amount of comfort in the ritual of the movements.

He could see John smile at that, a genuine smile as if he'd been waiting to hear him say something very different. "You guys are pretty much the best thing to happen to me. And Atlantis of course. She might get jealous if I'm not careful."

"She always liked Carson and me by proxy. I think the city _knew_ my gene was induced, but I spent so much time fixing her up after 10,000 years of neglect... And think what I can do with a ZPM in the city? She's going to be one happy, spoiled city when we get back." Following after the suds, he stroked John's chest with his free hand, half-massaging him.

"I want to spend some more time in the Chair. It...well, it was draining but I wanted you to stay longer, so I kinda ignored that. " John sounded a bit sheepish as he scooped some of the lathered soap and began the same on his chest and body.

That was nice, the mutual touching. It was nice to _see_ , too, every motion, every rise and fall of John's chest, the water that was hitting them both and washing the suds away as Rodney worked. "I figured. It helped. Time away from Kolya... helped give me perspective."

"I wanted to take you away from him the day we found you, bur I couldn't. You weren't ready to go," John said. "He really had a thing going on there. I got the impression that he had some pretty extreme ideas about me right from the word go."

"I'm pretty sure he wanted to sleep with you." Which was crude, but also probably very true, because Kolya had probably wanted to do the same to Rodney from the word go, and as good looking at John was, well. Rodney almost couldn't blame Acastus for it. He was good looking and his skin felt amazing under Rodney's hands, muscles flexing and shifting with every breath, otherwise loose beneath his fingers.

"Oh I got that much. We had a few conversations when he was high on the enzyme. He had plans for the both of us," John replied wryly. "I wasn’t interested in him, though the bits with you had a certain appeal."

"If I ever go crazy, I'll remember that you can be stalled with dirty talk." Rodney leaned in, lightly bumping his hips and his half-hard cock against John's body. Soap and hot water. Life didn't get much better.

Well, up to the point where John decided that he needed soaping up around his cock and that kissing at the same time would be a good idea. He could see it clearly now, the conversation had been a ruse to lure him into his clutches.

Rodney was pretty okay with that. Fingers around his cock, yeah, and he could slide a hand around behind John, pressing their bodies closer and letting him slide fingers down the crack of John's ass. "So can I."

John half laughed again against his mouth and unhurriedly started to stroke as he started kissing him again. John wasn't like Kolya although there were some similarities that made him familiar - mainly feelings of security and protection. But it surprised him how willing John was to do what he suggested - Kolya had been very much a case of requiring him to do things, not unpleasant things, but there was no doubt he was in control.

That was just how Kolya was – he was about control, and the sex _had_ been good, but there was good sex, and then there was great sex, there was comfortable, easy sex, there was sleeping with Carson and John and then getting up to shower and jerk off. It was the difference between seeing with the visor and _seeing_. "Fuck, yeah, just like that."

He liked the way it wasn't a big deal for John to jerk him off, and he certainly knew what he was doing. He was already drifting to ideas of things he had done with Kolya that he had liked but he did like to occasionally be less passive, more the one controlling things and there were some pretty hot fantasy inducing scenarios he had queuing up for the time he had chance to sound out Carson and John and see if they were up for it. Carson had always been surprisingly uninhibited and if he had a kink for anything it was sometimes the way he would talk during sex, describing lurid versions of what they might do and could do. John had yet to experience that side of Carson.

So far, Rodney was pretty sure John had only experienced the odd moment of disconnection, when the casual snuck its way into the sexual. 

Rodney closed his eyes, and ducked his head down, butting his forehead against John's shoulder while he slid his hand down a little more, teasing when he wrapped his fingers around John, too. He wasn't going to last long, and that was okay.

This wasn't epic sex, this was just casual morning sex and all the sweeter that it had been unplanned. John was hard and he could just about hear his quiet strained breathing over the flow of water as he tried to stop himself from getting noisy even has he inexorably picked up his pace, stroking him to climax.

John's fingers stuttered over the length of his cock, squeezed, paused, stroked hard, and Rodney rocked into his hand, against it, desperately close himself and trying to not stop before John was done.

In the end it was difficult to say if it was him or John who came first; it was difficult to separate the two orgasms as if they were a wave and a particle of the same phenomena. He ended up with John kissing his neck gently by way of a thank you.

It felt good, the easy shiver of sensation that was seeping through his body. He pulled his fingers back from John's ass, letting them linger on the curve of his hip. "That was..."

"A great way to get up in the morning," John murmured, cleaning them both off carefully. "I could get used to that."

"I could, too. You think when we get back to the city..." Rodney tilted his head slightly, trying to convey the question that he was asking without really saying it.

"I think we can find a way," John replied. "Especially if we sweet talk Atlantis some more. Come on, let’s get Carson some breakfast in bed, and tomorrow, he gets the wake up treatment."

"I think he'd like both of those." Rodney straightened his back, and ducked his head under the spray one more time. Yeah, he could get used to that. He could get used to being that _close_ , that easy, a lot.

"I'd do it now, but I think he needs sleep more right now," John replied. "It's not been long since he was in a coma. He worries too much about everyone else."

"He's a medical doctor. I think it's part of the job." And worrying about how things were back in Pegasus. Rodney pushed the shower door open, stepping out into the cold. "Quick, and we can get breakfast going."

John stepped out first and tossed him a towel. "I could probably remember how to make pancakes," he offered and without waiting for an answer wandered off still half damp, in search of a robe to cook breakfast in.

Rodney just hoped all their plans were not going to be screwed up by the SGC.

* * *

So here it was. After a few days of rest and recuperation (or hot threesome sex in all combinations, in actual fact) they had been called into the SGC for their 'verdicts'. Virtually all of the others got Landry, but lucky him, he got to see General O'Neill. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad news but he was there on time, dressed in uniform just in case it was the last time he got to wear it and trying not to show his nerves as he knocked on O'Neill's door. 

He hadn't been at the SGC when they'd been recalled and he really hoped that Cam's assessment that he was going to be 'helluva pissed' was accurate. He wasn't sure if he could deal with being taken away from Rodney and Carson now.

"Come in! That had better be Sheppard and not you again, Woolsey!" Oh, great, that didn't sound like a good mood to catch the General in.

He pushed the door open. "I can always go away if this is a bad time," he offered before he set foot over the threshold.

"No, you're the one I was waiting for." He stood up from behind his desk, in that aggravated posture that John was used to when someone had been making him jump through too many hoops. "Close the door behind you and uh, turn on that switch near the wall, that one there."

He did so, and flicked the switch before giving O'Neill a full salute. He was one of the people he respected enough to deserve it. The switch had to be some sort of security function, he guessed.

"Thanks. Sit down, Sheppard. Rested up much?" O'Neill sat back down, gesturing to him to sit, too.

"Some sir," he answered cautiously, trying to gauge the way the conversation was going to go and failing. It was really difficult with Jack, he was difficult to read like that. "Enough, at least."

"Good. I can't imagine it's been easy to sleep much with the two civilians, uh... How's that working out, by the way? We tried to contact you to see if you wanted to be roomed elsewhere, you know, with a bit more space, but Doctor McKay said you were fine and hung up." That was the best leading question John had possibly ever faced.

"It's working out fine sir," he said and struggled really really hard not to smirk when he said it. He might just’ve let a little bit slip before he managed to get poker faced. "We've got a lot in common."

"And I'm sure the sex is great." O'Neill leaned forwards in his chair, reaching for a folder. "That has to help. I know it's the only way I'd personally be able to put up with McKay, which is probably why Carter can't stand him. Now, I'm sure you're eager to hear about your expedition..."

John blinked a moment. "Whoa, whoa did you just say what I thought you said?" he asked, his heart sinking a bit. If O’Neill was actually coming out and saying it, then the odds were he was out.

He was out -- of the closet, and out of the military and out of Pegasus and Rodney would kill him except he might have to kill Rodney first. "I did. Are you surprised? You don't have anyone else controlling your body right now, do you? Because I swore we screened for that, now.”

"The last person to control my body was you... sir," John replied. "And yeah, I'm pretty surprised. Considering the whole Don't Ask, Don't Tell big unwritten rule. Which I kept unwritten."

And now he was wondering _why_ he'd done that for O’Neill and Jackson when it looked like he was going to get screwed over.

It just figured that he'd be wrong about O'Neill, _and_ Jackson, and expect them to do the same for him if it ever came to it, seeing as what had happened was tantamount to rape, but he hadn't thought it'd ever go that way. And if he couldn't fly, couldn't fight, then there wasn't much else that John Sheppard _could_ do. "I didn't really have to ask, and" -- he gestured vaguely towards the switch John had hit -- "I definitely haven't told."

Oh. John glanced at the switch and back again. "So you're bringing it up because... it's the real reason I'm out or...?"

"Because you're now the military commander at the SGC's Atlantis Outpost. And it cuts down on the paranoia when one of your superiors has an inkling what you're up to in your free time. Personal experience speaking, here." Jack slid the folder across the table to him. "Just in case something happens."

John automatically reached to pick up the folder. "So... wait, you're saying that you know and you're okay with it? And still giving me a promotion?"

Things like this didn't happen to him. Nothing like this happened to him unless he counted accidentally lighting up a command chair.

And that had been an accident, with an emphasis on the part where it never happened to people like him. "Well, it's not fraternization. They're not your men. But they are senior staff members of the expedition – Doctor Beckett will be second in command diplomatically if something should happen to Doctor Weir, and Doctor McKay will be co-heading the Science division with Doctor Zelenka. So they're officially on a rank with you."

"I'd say that would by over-looking Dr. Beckett's accomplishments if it weren't for the fact he'd probably shoot me if he was made leader of the expedition," John replied. The more he discovered about what Carson had been doing personally during that time period, the more he was astonished he was as together as he was. He'd seen a lot of his people through the worst times personally and he had an almost fanatical following. "So... military commander huh? You sure about that? Major Lorne did well out there."   
"Major Lorne wants to work with SG-1 for a few months to get his bearings on earth before he returns to Atlantis, where I'm sure you'll be able to use his help. He was very paranoid about possibly having gone native, so..." O'Neill shrugged. He probably missed his family like hell, but over vigilance to duty was a much more acceptable reason than something like that.

John didn't have the family ties thing going on so that wasn't an issue. "He's the least likely out of everyone to have gone that way. I hope he comes back to Pegasus. I know Carson relied on him a great deal." He grinned a bit. Military commander. Who'd've thought it? "Do I have any sort of military based priorities?"

"Just to protect the people on the base and help facilitate the scientific endeavors. The civilians have first say and run the expedition. Hopefully you'll be able to yield a lot of information that could be useful back here." He tapped the folder. "That is a personnel file on your senior staff, and if you check your internal mailbox, we want you to look over a few things. You'll be going back with the Daedalus in four weeks -- two weeks leave, two weeks of pre-mission prep. Fair enough?"

He smiled again. Long enough to see Rodney's sister, long enough to visit Carson's mother. Long enough to work out those first tricky stages of a relationship. "Definitely fair enough sir," he replied. "And thank you for the opportunity."

"You can show me thanks by doing a stellar job of it when you get back from leave. Just remember that your main goal is the safety of everyone on the base, and I think you'll do fine." It did feel like a mission that was up his alley. O’Neill was smiling at him when he said it, and shifted, standing again, a hand stuck out.

He stood as well and shook the general's hand, the grin he'd been trying to poker face into submission escaping suddenly. "You know me and missions to do with safety. We get on just fine."

Just never ask him for directions. East, west, it was a tossup and he was bound to pick the wrong -- or maybe the right -- one.

O'Neill's hand enclosed John’s fingers, squeezed tight. "I noticed. Good to have you back, Sheppard."

He looked up at O'Neill and for a brief moment saw in his eyes a very complete understanding of what he was going to be doing and facing, not just in terms of alien cities and danger, but the sort of relationship he was going to dive headlong into. Right then he was pretty sure O'Neill had picked him for all the reasons the debriefers had wanted him out; for his slightly obsessive concern with his teammates, for that willingness to put everything on the line if it needed to be done because that was exactly what he had done and still did for the original SG-1.

He shook his hand, let go and saluted him again, surprised to receive a regulation perfect snap of a salute in response and then, taking his folders and wanting to go find Rodney and Carson and tell them the 'real' good news, he guessed he would have to make do with telling Cam, at least until the other's had finished their interviews.

* * *

Carson knew he was pacing but really he wasn't sure that it hadn't been too soon for John and Rodney to take a team on their first off-world mission together. Even if that team involved Ronon and Teyla. They hadn't been back even more than a week, but Teyla had talked about a powerful new alliance and a couple of living legends might just swing the balance in their favor.

He still didn't like it though, even with Rodney sounding like a kid and John giving him that grin that told him he knew exactly what he was thinking.

He felt a bit superfluous, right up to the point that Teyla had informed him she was holding him in reserve as a means to lure dignitaries to Atlantis.

Which was a wee bit scary, come to think of it.

 _He_ wasn’t the kind of person that anyone held out to see. Carson had never been that kind of person, and god knew what they thought would happen if they met him instead of John and Rodney – except that their chances of feeling terribly insulted would be less, with Rodney no longer deferring to Kolya in silence at meetings, which John had told him about. He wasn't deferring to anyone, _now_.

Half the time it filled him with amazement, and the rest of the time with a sort of horror because only Rodney could say those things and not think they were outrageous. He went off with visor clipped on and a smile on his face.

And what had he done since he'd come back? Really really annoyed Elizabeth as far as he could tell. But she had been wrong about how she was dealing with the Rthamen, and she hadn't wanted to listen and in the end he'd had to get forceful and he hated that.

He hated challenging her like that, because he was _just_ , as she'd told him once, the head of the medical department, and she didn't tell him how to do surgery. 

Except, if she felt she had any inkling of what to do, Carson suspected that she would. There was going to be an uncomfortable grind there for a good while, and he didn't want to have that, so it was probably best to just... avoid her for a while. Teyla kept him abreast of what he might need to intervene on, when Elizabeth was ignoring Teyla's tempered judgments.

He just felt a little… disappointed, or maybe just a little hurt that the easy friendship as well as professional respect they had had before had not returned so easily as his relationship with Rodney.

And his new one with John. If not for that, he would've felt pretty isolated, in a strange way. But he had to admit, good though things were with Rodney and him alone, with John they stepped up another level. It was like they needed that third one for balance. For when one of them was overstretching, they would be reined in. John was incredibly easy to fall for and in some ways that meant he was twice as worried with the two of them out there.

Were they overdue? Not quite. He made his way to the gate room, where Elizabeth and Radek were watching the Stargate. 

"Any word?"

"Not a." Radek shrugged his shoulders loosely, and went back to leaning over the console. "Sometimes no news is good news."

"They should be contacting or coming back in fifteen minutes," Elizabeth told him a little firmly. There wasn't much reason for a Doctor to be up in the control room, but half the expedition looked for him to be there, and what was he supposed to do?

"Mind if I hang around?" Carson asked. "It might be one way of making sure they get their post-mission checks."

It was a bit weak but it sufficed as a reason. Zelenka glanced at him and said, "Yes, the Colonel was always being hunted by Dr. Biro for checks. Some specific memory disorder he would say."

Elizabeth's mouth fell into a tight line, almost a smile, and she tilted her head down slightly. "All right, Doctor Beckett. I'm sure they'll be right through."

"Evan would say that a lot, and then come back painted blue and purple or something," Carson replied with a mock sigh. He wanted Elizabeth to unthaw a little towards him. He didn’t _want_ her job but maybe the rumors had reached her or something.

It wasn't as it Atlantis was a quiet place, and a lot of rumors flew fast and furious, all of the speculation that had cropped up in their absence thick enough to make Carson wonder if it had been worth it. Except, he'd gotten to see his mother again, alive and stunned to see him, and that was worth coming back to any level of innuendo about whether or not he wanted Elizabeth’s' job.

He never wanted it. He hadn't wanted it when he had it! It had just been an extension of how he ran the infirmary. Look after them, keep them safe and whole and happy...

The gate was dialing and he watched the shield come up as the wormhole formed. "Incoming transmission," Radek said glancing at Elizabeth.

"Put it through." She shifted, coming to attention almost, looking out to the gate.

"Atlantis, this is Colonel John Sheppard. IDC is coming through -- mission was a success."

"That's good to hear John," Elizabeth said warmly and Carson noticed her relax a little. "Come on home."

Radek took the shield down as the IDC was transmitted and Carson wondered if he should stay or go. He didn't move quick enough to go, so stay it was.

Rodney came through the gate shoulder first, as if he'd been looking behind him as he stepped through. "See, we're all in one piece this time! I think this counts as a victory among gate missions, what do you think, Sheppard?"

"It's a good start," he replied, even though on second glance all of the team were garlanded with flamboyant flowers. Ronon looked particularly fetching as his circlet of rainbow blooms had hooked up on his hair. John was wearing some sort of circlet of rose-like flowers that looked a little like some sort of bridal hair piece, and Rodney had some red hibiscus like blooms around his neck.

Carson was trying very hard not to laugh.

"Man, that was a hell of a welcome." Ford was grinning, and it was hard to not see why. There were flowers wrapped around his P-90. "Doctor Beckett! We're heroes!"

"Slightly exaggerated heroes," Rodney scoffed, wandering away from the gate. Medical, yes, he was supposed to be there to get them to medical clearance.

"No kidding," John replied. "Did you know that I apparently attacked the Wraith fleet with my bare-hands? On my own?" He had a wry smile on his face. "And Rodney is apparently a Cyclops with a Glare of Doom."

"Well, the glare of doom I'd agree with," Carson said with a smile as he headed down to intercept them. "How about the rest of you?"

"Yeah, but a _Cyclops_? I'm okay with the blind man, fine, but a Cyclops is a new layer of unacceptably exaggerated..." Rodney tipped his head up, and waved towards Elizabeth. "We'll be up for debriefing soon."

"After your medical checks, " Carson stressed to all of them. "And I'm sure our botanists will be delighted to see those flowers. At least Rodney isn't allergic to them."

"That's a miracle," Ronon rumbled off to one side even as Teyla tried to disentangle the flowers with little success.

"They're _just_ Wevsel flowers." Rodney pulled them up over his head, careful of the flowers. He almost missed Rodney's raging hypochondria. Almost. "They're edible, too. If you consider something that tastes like avocados edible." 

"Presumably people who eat avocados would feel they were," Carson pointed out. "All of you to the Infirmary. I need to do the checks. So what happened?"

"Oh just an equivalent of a parade or something," John said with a shrug, but he was still smiling.

A _parade_? 

"You should have seen the villagers trying to lift Ronon onto their shoulders." Rodney was half-way leading he way for the gate team to head to the nearest transporter, even as Carson joined them.

"Yes, they were... somewhat over-enthusiastic," Teyla said with a smile. "Ronon persuaded them that such an honor was not necessary, not even for the vanquisher's of the Wraith."

"They kept trying to give us things," John said sounding a little confused by that. "Which was weird, since we had to keep telling them that we didn't want payment or anything, though an alliance would be nice."

"News of what we did has spread like wildfire. The Genii have been singing our praises as they try to re-feel out their old alliances. There's a few interesting trade alliances starting, actually, like trading blocks." Rodney waved a hand slightly, offering the flowers out to John. "I'm sure Elizabeth will be delighted."

Carson noticed that John just automatically took the flowers and then looked at them as if he wondered why he had just ended up with them in his hand.

"I'm sure she will," Carson said diplomatically even as they headed down a level to the Infirmary. 

"Are you kidding doc?" Ford said fairly bouncing with pride. "You know the most stable group? It's our alliance, the core group. The one thing that disappointed them was that you weren't there. They would've heaped a greenhouse of flowers on you."

"Yeah," John said brightly. "Wouldn't want you to miss out on the experience. Here..."

He carefully and deftly put the two garlands over Carson’s head. "Much better."

They did smell a little funny, vaguely unfamiliar to Carson, but he couldn't help but feel a flush of pride. "They decided that you were back in the City, 'Communing with the Ancestors'," Rodney declared, grinning a little crookedly.

"Aye, well the only communing I did this morning was with an unfortunate marine who inadvertently ate about half a pot of tava-paste," Carson replied with a shrug.

He had managed to stop most of the group in their tracks with that announcement except for John who was obviously wondering what the looks of horror were about.

"Half a pot -- what was he, crazy _and_ stupid?" Rodney's eyes probably were wide under the visor. "Jesus, that's insane."

"What’s the deal with half a pot of tava-paste?" John asked as they entered the Infirmary. "Isn't that the stuff that smells a little like creosote?"

"Tava-paste," Teyla explained to John patiently as they entered the infirmary, "is reduced, concentrated tava-beans, ground and roasted. It's mixed with spices, and is--"

"And is usually dissolved into hot water for what passes as coffee in this Galaxy. It's _very_ nutritious coffee -- you've tasted it, Sheppard. I always carried it in my canteen," Rodney cut in.

"It tastes like creosote, too, then," John said with a smirk as they all automatically hopped up onto the examination beds. 

"Aye, we'll it's an acquired taste. I understand that this marine though it was something along the lines of Bovril or...vegemite I think he called it, that you spread on bread. Apparently it was very 'more-ish'...up to the point that it started having predictable effects on his digestive system."

"We had a few problems with it when we first had it," Ford said glancing at Carson who shrugged. 

"We were pretty hungry that day lad, we'd not had much more than power-bars for best part of a week," Carson pointed out.

"Ugh." Rodney's mouth pulled down as he leaned back on his hands. "I can't imagine that. I just can't. It's -- what kind of warped, mutated taste buds do you have to have to sit down and just start eating it."

"Australian-born, apparently," Carson replied as he moved to Teyla and automatically started taking her vital statistics. "Any way, he's ... recovered. Sort of."

"Now that his asshole has probably exploded, yes, I suppose he’s recovered." It would have been funnier if he hadn't experienced it for himself once in his life.

"Do not mock the afflicted, Rodney," Carson cautioned even as he took the obligatory blood sample although he had found it secretly a little amusing as well. "Healthy as a horse my dear, as ever," he said patting Teyla’s arm and moved on to Ronon. 

The amount of time it had taken to get Ronon to agree to the mission-checks had given him a lot of headaches, but after the time when he had picked up a dangerous virus, that could've infected the whole Tower, Ronon had been very diligent about coming to him even if he hadn't quite apologized for being a pain in the neck.

"So, we have the alliance we wanted yes?" he asked much as he would've combined the post mission check and debriefing in one before they had returned to Atlantis.

"In principle," John replied. "Yeah – they like associating their names with genuine legends. Apparently we're everyone's cool friend."

"It only goes to show that they have good taste. It's a nice change from when we first got here and all we met were hostile natives, hostile natives, more hostile natives." Rodney tilted his head, watching Carson while he moved.

"I was not overly hostile," Teyla pointed out.

"No, but the big guy here was hostile enough for you both," Ford said. "Did the doc tell you about that? How Ronon had him doing surgery at gun point, without anesthetic on him, holding Major Lorne and Teyla hostage. And by the end of it, he'd persuaded Ronon to come back with us."

"Well, more like he passed out," Carson felt he should clarify that.

"And you sent everyone else home, and stayed there until he woke up for a 'wee chat'," Ford said.

Carson looked at Ronon and gave a half smile. They'd promised to never share exactly what'd happened in that time. But Ronon had come back with him and found somewhere to belong even if Carson hadn’t been exactly sure what he had said that convinced him.   
Rodney gave a quiet laugh. "No, no, you guys aren't hostile. Hostile is spear wielding, dart gun firing..."

"Oh, you met the Ithi as well?" Carson asked. "I must admit that their knockout darts were very effective."

"You know, sometimes, you guys worry me," John replied. "All these stories you have inexplicably forgotten to put in reports or tell me..."

Carson nodded to Ronon. "You're clear,” and moved on to Ford who he usually had to give a look at to get him to settle down. Three years in an alien galaxy and he was half convinced Aiden was still a kid somewhere. It was refreshing in a lot of ways.

"Well, let's face it, do we really want them to know the story about when we accidentally mislabeled the ceremonial wine for the everyday version and ended up with pretty much everyone completely off their faces, and woke up the following morning in compromising positions?"

"No," Rodney said agreeably. "It's not that we're trying to obscure information. It's just that most of my adventures were with the Genii if it wasn't in a mission report. Do you really want to hear 'We were on another scouting mission, armed with intimidating weapons'..."

"I'm always up for hearing about intimidating weapons," John countered.

"Aye, well three years is a lot of time for anything but edited highlights," Carson said, knowing John probably wouldn't drop it. "You're clear as well, lad."

"I still think you like to take the blood samples just to screw with us. What do you _do_ with it, anyway?" Rodney leaned forwards a little, attention fixed on Carson now as he came towards him. He could still feel it through the visor, even if he couldn't see Rodney’s eyes.

Apparently Rodney could flick through normal view and Ancient at will, now. "Well, right now I'm planning to sell it as holy relic's on the Pegasus black market," Carson said wryly. "I could get early retirement."

"For that cause, we'll contribute," John put in, as Carson put his fingers on Rodney's wrist to feel for a pulse, fighting the memory that he had kissed that pulse point a few hours earlier and felt the evidence of Rodney still being alive fluttering against his lips.

He liked that, liked being able to make the most of the free time they had in Pegasus to spend with Rodney. He'd filled his free waking hours with work, before, and now he didn't quite have to. There was a little downtime, and he could steal it with Rodney or John or both of them. And he worried about both of them when they went out through the gate -- something he was probably going to have to get used to. "Hey, if my blood's selling as a holy relic, I'd like a cut."

"I could get a scalpel instead of a hypodermic," he deadpanned. A twitch fast, but Rodney generally was. He automatically moved to do the blood pressure.

"Though it's nice being recognized, I don't think it is a good idea for things to get a little too out there," John said.

"You were responsible for ridding the Galaxy of the Wraith. This is something even the Ancients could not do," Teyla said calmly.

Carson looked down. Because they wouldn't commit Xenocide even to save themselves, and he would. What did that make him? Human, he supposed. Rodney toed Carson’s knee with one dusty boot. "And we did. I think that says something about us."

It did. It said that he was a killer because a fair fight was one thing but sabotaging their genetics was something else. John was looking at him and he knew he was going to wasn’t going to escape his attention later on. For someone who hated talking about feelings, John was surprisingly observant.

"It means in the end we made sacrifices for the greater good, and didn't hesitate," John said. "Particularly Carson.”

"See, this is why you need to come down planetside with us," Rodney coaxed quietly. "Those people are no longer living in fear of their lives. The... shift of lifestyles is amazing."

“I’m not the one saying no to missions," Carson said. "That would be Dr. Weir trying to protect Atlantis."

Which he could understand but in some ways he would prefer to be out there with Rodney and John because sometimes the pair of them could get carried away.

"There's a need for medical expertise out there, and Biro hates going through the gate." That was John who drawled that. Maybe he'd say something to Elizabeth, resolve a little of the tension there because Carson really didn't want her job.

"Aye well, I certainly wouldn't say no. I had to do it often enough before. Hold still Rodney,” he said as he took the blood. "How's the visor working out? The input is not giving you problems?"

"Not any. I'm getting used to swapping views again, and there's no pain involved. If you need to do any readings on it..."

“I'll do them later. I don't want to keep you from Elizabeth too long." Carson said. He had an experiment involving wraith tissue that looked like it might produce something that would reverse tissue degeneration to check on. A side project that might potentially provide a cure for all degenerative genetic conditions. This galaxy was like that.

"Well, doc. I'm going to go wash up before I see the boss," Ford said. "Maybe catch a cuppa coffee or something. Call me if I'm likely to grow an extra head or something."

Which was also what the Galaxy was like. It was all or nothing, heaven or hell. You just had to make the most of it, and most of them were willing to do that.

"I guess we'll head up there right away," Rodney murmured, glancing at John while Carson moved to check over him.

"When I'm finished with you," Carson said as he did the same for John. This time the memories were of his hair and the kiss of him on the back of his neck to wake him in the morning. He'd never believed John would not just share but seem to value him in his own right. But when Rodney was not there, he was still the same irrepressible John, pushing at his boundaries.

It still worried him, but at least he had someone to worry about rather than the alternative.

As long as John was tangled up with his life, there were two people watching out for John and visa versa.

"Hmn. It's nice to have a relatively quiet mission," Rodney mused, going back to leaning on his hands. His head was tipped, probably to watch the two of them.

"I must admit I was half expecting dramatic last minute returns," Carson said absently, aware of John looking at him intensely.

"Us? Do that? When would we do, uh, okay, I won't go into that." John replied. He seemed to study Carson a moment. "You know, I think Elizabeth and I need a little chat."

"Maybe." That Rodney was agreeing at all... Perhaps he and John had already talked about it.

"What about?" Carson asked. "About going off world? I appreciate it but it's not necessary."

"Oh, not just about that," John replied. "I think we need a few issues cleared up here. Misunderstandings."

"Tensions. We'll find a real threat soon enough, and we don't need..." Rodney shrugged his shoulders. "Misunderstandings when something important is going on."

"Look, guys I don't think this is a good idea," Carson said getting worried. Rodney and John colluding were no better than his and John’s attempts. "I'm perfectly happy staying here in the lab."

John gave him a look that said 'Yeah right.'

"It is not that," Teyla said. "Some of the Trinarians feel that you have been badly treated. There is resentment. You were our leader for a long time and now what they see is your deeds and accomplishments ignored and there is anger. I do not feel that your leaders have appreciated how the people you looked after feel about things. Those who were Genii feel superior, for they have a lot of representation. Carson, my friend, it is not just about what you are willing to give up."

"What she said," John added.

"The group you helped form..." Rodney cleared his throat. "Don't want to be sidelined. You were heading the other most powerful union in the Galaxy, Carson."

"Aye well, the group was more than just one person. I was nothing but a figurehead anyway," Carson said and he believed it. It wasn't anything special that had happened. A patchwork stitching together from fragments of people’s torn apart by Wraith cullings.

"Sometimes Doc, you are really stupid for a smart man," Ronon said. "Sheppard, like I said, you get a shot at this, but after that, we're not putting up with it forever."

"Now wait a minute!" Carson said, stepping back and looking at them all. "I don't want to be in charge, I never bloody well wanted to be in charge and Elizabeth is the best person for the job, I've always known that and you will, too, when you get to know her. This is exactly the sort of thing that seems to have cost me her friendship when all I want to do is help. I want you to leave it. Please. She doesn't need to start worrying that there will be some sort of revolt!"

Rodney cleared his throat slightly, a fairly unsubtle gesture, and John lifted his chin slightly. It made Carson not want to turn around at all, because he could hear Elizabeth's voice say, "Gentlemen, could I have a word with Doctor Beckett alone?"

"Oh, crap..." Carson felt the nerves clench in the pit of his stomach.

"We can stay if you want us to," John murmured as he sat up. 

"No... no, just go. We do need to talk," he said, where before he knew he would've put himself anywhere but here and now and avoided the situation.

But he needed to get it cleared up, even if it meant that his friends were slowly filtering out of the infirmary, Rodney and John lingering.

"If this is something I'm gunna need to hear..." John let that hang in the air, lingering in the doorway.

"Then I'm sure that we'll find a way to tell you," Elizabeth said giving him a brief nod to act as a dismissal and waiting until they had finally left.

Carson looked around -- the place had emptied out. "So I guess you're wanting to ... uh." He didn't know how to go on. He couldn't leave Rodney and John. He wasn't sure he knew how to live with out them. He couldn't go back to Earth, not without them. But he didn't know how _they_ could live without Pegasus Galaxy, without the city. 

"Talk," Elizabeth finished. "The senior staff went on their first mission, and I get the feeling that they debriefed you while getting their checkups."

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth, it's just... habit I guess. Talk while I’m doing the checks," Carson replied spreading his hands. "It wasn't a conscious debriefing.”

How could he get through to her?

"And then I come down here to see how everyone is, and Ronon is talking about a revolt." She said it so calmly, as if he could be expected to come up with a reasonable answer to that.

"Elizabeth..." Why was he even trying? "Elizabeth, I think we need to deal with this properly. I've tried very hard to fade into the background because that seems to be what you want. But it seems that no matter what I try and do, you are treating me with some suspicion."

"Because I don’t know what to do with you, Carson. You're the head of our medical team, but all of these people look to you for guidance. If I let you take on more of that role, you won't be able to properly fulfill your medical duties."

"Elizabeth..." Carson looked at her. "I had to do all the medical work, and the leading thing as well for a considerably larger group than we have now. What they’re saying is... if you push me out completely they feel insulted. Frankly I don't care. I never asked to be in charge of anything except the infirmary and you are welcome to it, but it seems I underestimated how others might feel about it."

"The international oversight committee put me in charge because they felt I was best suited to lead. But I..." Elizabeth walked closer to him, and Carson realized that she looked like she was at a loss. "I have no idea what to do in relation to the people you led, Carson. They refuse to work with me. And that includes half the current mission."

"I hate to say it Elizabeth, but it's possibly because you've been treating me like the enemy rather than a friend," he said softly. "And they did become rather protective over me. I know you are only trying to do things right and keep everything from getting out of hand, but that's not how this place works. Things get out of hand for a pastime. We have Colonel Sheppard with us, for a start." He smiled slightly at that. "I'm not trying to work against you Elizabeth. I miss my friend. I grieved for you, too, you know when we thought you were dead."

She tilted her head slightly, mouth a thin line as she looked down to the ground. "I... I don't think I've transitioned as smoothly as Rodney has. And I'm sorry for that, Carson. I'm still feeling my way through this situation. The IOC wants me firmly in control of the expedition, but..." Clearly, it wasn't working.

"Elizabeth, you are, you really are firmly in control," he said, patting her hand. "Honestly, do you really believe that I want your job? Or that I didn't come after you because I wanted it?"

"I... sometimes wondered. I think Rodney only didn't wonder because of his unerring faith in you, Carson." Or the very honest fact that if he were to not believe in Carson that fiercely, he had very little to hang onto at all. And what did Elizabeth have to hang onto? 

"Well that will be the source of our problems right there," Carson said relaxing a little. "I assumed you knew I didn't want it. I never had. Personally I think you're crazy wanting to do it. It nearly killed me – I think I mean that literally come to think of it. Elizabeth, I don't want your job. The only reason I stepped in the other day was because I knew there would be a huge problem if we approached the Rthamen that way. It wasn't for any other reason, but...you weren't listening to me, so I had to, to protect the team we had going out there. They would've ceremonially broken a limb on each one and sent them back through the gate for insulting them."

"And you learned this the hard way, I expect...?" 

"Aye, we did," Carson replied. "I learned to listen to Teyla and Ronon a lot. I suppose I had the luxury of everyone knowing I had been landed with being in command. Not that I didn't have mutiny issues of my own to contend with so I do know how you are feeling. Kavanagh was a constant thorn in my side and more than once I just wanted to hand the whole thing over to him if he could do so much of a better job."

"I think we all would have been dead by now." Elizabeth tipped her head back up, looking at him again. "I need help. We're no longer seen as an impartial group. We're the Genii alliance and the Trinarians, and neither were particularly impartial."

"You know I will help you Elizabeth. I always wished I could do more to help you before, and now I'm in a position to actually do that. Apparently we all have our own individual ...mythos growing up around us. We might as well use it." Carson met her eyes. "Neither of us could afford to be impartial then, but now...now we could use the mythos to explain why we are not interested in running Pegasus. It would be what legends would do. John said the people they visited explained my absence by independently deciding I was 'communing with the ancients'. A mysterious non-political explanation."

She almost laughed. "If you're willing to use it. I'll have to hear all of the mythos. If we could become an impartial helping group..." Like the Trinarians had been, Carson supposed.

"I think that wouldn't be hard. The medicines worked well as good will and trade items. I think you could do a lot with that Elizabeth," he said earnestly. "I used to do some clinics off-world as part of our trade. To be honest all we had to start with was knowledge. It seemed to work."

He just wanted to help her, to make her understand. That was all.

And it had to work, because he couldn't leave John and Rodney, and he had a feeling they'd never really leave Pegasus, so it just... Just had to work. "All right. Then we'll... I'll need a more formal outline so if and when we're audited, I can account for supplies and man-hours. But I want to do that."

"Elizabeth, if you are not regarding me as someone who is after your job and treat me like someone who wants to help you, then everything will be fine," Carson said. "Trust me, if I am overloaded, I will tell you and so will Rodney, be sure of that. I want to do more of the medicine, it's true, but we have to establish out position first."

"Re-establish," she murmured, mouth twitching up towards a smile. "All right. But if you're going to keep doing these debriefings, I might have to go over the official ones with you to make sure no-one omitted anything."

"It's nothing more than they always used to do. The teams tend to sound off when they are in the Infirmary," Carson said. "Sometimes the embarrassing parts get left out of official reports, it is true." He smiled at her again and then said hesitantly, "We are okay, now, aren't we Elizabeth? I hate to think of us being... in conflict."

She nodded. "I think we're okay. I need to work out some personal things, I think, but you haven't done anything wrong. I never asked you how your time earthside was."

"It went very well," he admitted. "But I am reading between the lines here that yours did not?" Traitorously, Rodney's comment about the live-in Doctor replacing Elizabeth sprang to mind, and he could understand if that was what was making her so uptight about things if that had actually happened.

"Going home again is a double-edged sword. I want to apologize if I've been..." She shifted her shoulders slightly. "Abrupt with you, Carson."

"Just a wee bit Elizabeth – which is something I'm used to from Rodney, so no harm done," Carson replied meaning every word. "You belong here. We need someone to make sure we are under control. There were times when I brought danger to those of us at the Tower because I was too trusting or forgiving. That's who I am. And we need someone to keep Rodney from blowing the place up, and John from running into danger."

"Someone to play bad cop," Elizabeth suggested, which made him good cop, but at least it implied that they were on the same side this time. "I think I can keep doing that."

"They don't always listen to me. And don't worry about Ronon and Teyla. They’re just concerned for their people," Carson replied. "John was wanting to ask if I could go on some of the missions...I'll leave that as your decision though."

"I think there are missions where that would be appropriate." So that was a yes and a no, but at least it would mean a little more activity for him. And when it was a no, he could go off and commune with the ancients. "All right. I'm going to go speak to our two rabble rousers."

"I think you should. And I think we should have a coffee together later just to have a wee bit more of a chat. Just catch up on a few things." Elizabeth was disconnected and feeling isolated and he really knew how that felt – and for once he could do something about it. Besides, being seen in public having a convivial conversation would do a great deal to assuage rumors. He hadn't forgotten everything he'd learned in the past three years.

And from the looks of it, Elizabeth knew exactly what he was suggesting and why.

"That sounds fine." She paused, and then reached out to catch and squeeze his hand gently before Elizabeth twisted to let herself out. "Thank you for listening, Carson."

"Same to you Elizabeth," he said as she left. She could've just lost it and ordered him out of there. But she hadn't and that left him alone and a little shaken as he exhaled and sat down. Finally an end to all this uncertainty and tension.

It was a relief, to not have to wonder any more, to not have that hanging over his head. They'd probably still clash, but if he could just get to be friends with her again, it'd make life a lot smoother.

"Hey... Elizabeth gone?"

He looked up to see John and Rodney peering around the door, looking at him.

"You two are meant to be at a debriefing," he said as he smoothed back his hair.

"I wasn't really in the mood to debrief myself. It's hard to debrief on a mission when there's no-one to tell what happened to. I just thought we'd, uh..." Rodney tipped his head a little, and over the edge of the visor, his eyebrows tipped, too.

“Eavesdrop," Carson filled in for him.

"That makes it sound so premeditated," John said as they moved a bit closer. "Besides the possibility we might all be going back to Earth was a bit important to us."

"Not all of us John.” Carson pointed out. "I would've only been me..."

John just raised his eyebrows at him as well.

"No, we would have all been going back to Earth. But, look, she seemed happier when she left than when she came in, so can we assume that everything is okay right now?"

"Aye, we reached an accommodation," Carson replied, still stuck on that last bit. "I'm sorry, did you just say if I was sent to Earth, you would be going too? The both of you."

"You know, I thought I was the idiot in this relationship," John said. "That's the size of it."

"But you couldn't wait to be back on Atlantis.” Carson said unable to shake a feeling of shock.

"Yeah well, we kinda..." John looked as if he was having great difficulty saying the words. "...love you, okay?"

Rodney crossed his arms over his chest. "Or, we could go native again. But – look, we'll talk later, okay? But remember that you're not allowed to get yourself fired without me. Or John."

"And the same goes for you both," Carson said. "Which will happen if you don't make it to the debriefing in the next few minutes."

He was trying very hard not to let the surge of emotion get the better of him. It was pointless really as he knew Rodney would be seeing it with the Visor, something a little like that noonday sun in his colors blazing again. But he didn't care. He meant that much to not just one person but two and in the end that was more than a bonus.

It amplified and fed off of itself – happiness was such a bizarre creature in that way. "Going, going – we'll leave you to do vampire experiments on our blood."

John gave him a lazy wave and dragged Rodney out of there to placate Elizabeth, leaving him alone and not alone for the first time in his life.

He could feel Atlantis around him, singing that melody of happiness that there were people in her walls again that was always louder when John was near. He knew that she rejoiced when Rodney brought another part of her systems to life and she recognized him as a defender and protector, which was strange because he always thought of John that way. In the end they all were and Carson knew that if there was a hope of defeating the Ori and the other great threats that faced them, they would find it here.

But right now all that he could think of were two sets of eyes who looked at him and didn't want him to solve their problems, but instead wanted to solve his.

As a definition of love it went a long way. Even as far as another galaxy.

* * *


End file.
